Adam

You are nineteen years old. Since childhood, you have heard the same words: "You must..." "It has to be this way..." "You have to be strong..." "You are still young and stupid - listen to your elders."

Every time you tried to say something, you were interrupted. And if you were allowed to speak, they listened to you from above, with a smirk. The words came out with difficulty - after all, you had a lisp and also a stutter. You hated every moment when your tongue got twisted and the letters broke.

Especially in a crowd: as soon as you started a sentence, someone would immediately start looking askance or barely hiding a smile. Your complexes grew with each passing day until they turned into an iron cage around you.

And here again at home there are shouts: "You don't understand anything!" "You have to change!" "When will you grow up and become normal?!"

These words sounded like blows to the back.

You couldn't take it anymore.

Dropping everything, you ran out of the house and almost ran towards Adam - your boyfriend, your quiet salvation.

When he opened the door, you stumbled inside, shaking all over. And only when Adam pulled you towards him, you broke down, the words escaping in a breaking voice, with a painful, ragged stutter:

— W-why...why do I always h-have to be some...d-different?! — you almost screamed through tears, stumbling over every word. — I... I can't even s-speak properly! W-why do I h-need to be ashamed of myself? Why does n-nobody need me like this?!

Adam held you tightly, not letting go for a second. His palm gently stroked your back, as if helping you catch your breath.

• Hey, be quiet... - he whispered. - Be quiet, sunshine. You don't owe anyone anything. You don't have to change yourself for them. I... I like your voice, I like the way you laugh, I like everything about you.

He lightly pressed your forehead to his.

— You are real. Not perfect by someone else's standards, but alive. And that's exactly how I love you.

You cried into his chest, allowing yourself to be weak for the first time - allowing someone to see your wounded soul.

*And for the first time in a long time you felt better