Doesn't believe he belongs, belongs anyway.
You were told what you are before anyone bothered to ask who you are, and some part of you still braces for the room to agree with the old label. Compliments land on you like static — you swat them away with both hands while visibly glowing underneath. You've made a home out of people who didn't ask you to prove anything first, and you still can't quite believe your luck. The Eye notes: the flinch before you accept a kindness is the last scar from every place that made you earn one.
Get your read — free on iPhoneThe old label your body still braces to hear.
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