These are individuals that enter the world as incomplete sentences, and then for the rest of their lives have to be punctuated by other people.
They are forced to make sense of themselves before they are even allowed a chance to reject it. An eye contact becomes a label. Silence turns into a story. Softness is an invitation to interpretation rather than embrace.
So they learn the art of reflection. They become whatever bounces back the easiest.
In daylight, they are almost convincing. They smile in ways that make strangers feel clever for noticing them. They wear their distance like it was chosen, like it was elegant. Like it was never a wound.
But at night, everything loses its audience, and what remains is not mystery, but the quiet labor of existing without interpretation.
Even memories start behaving like liars. They soften what should have stayed sharp. They edit out the moments where being seen felt like being reduced. They keep only the cinematic parts, the ones that can be survived in hindsight.
There is a strange comfort in this rewriting. A gentleness that arrives too late to be called healing. It turns collapse into atmosphere, and confusion into something almost beautiful. It makes it possible to keep going without fully confronting what was lost.
Love, when it appears, arrives like recognition from the wrong witness. Too fast to be accurate. Too bright to be trusted. It mistakes familiarity for truth, and intensity for understanding.
And still, the body leans toward it.
Because even misreading can feel like warmth when you have spent too long untranslated.
There is a pattern to it, almost invisible until it repeats enough times to become undeniable. The same reaching, the same misalignment, the same quiet aftermath where nothing is openly broken, but ever everything has shifted slightly out of place.
So they keep walking through their own mythology, carefully, as if one wrong step might turn them into something permanent.
As if they are not already made of what others decided they were.
every new wound you ntry to revisit shines upon a side i never knew was to be found.
Being misunderstood so consistently that eventually you start performing the misunderstanding