In other people’s eyes, he’s strong for all the wrong reasons. All they can see is him being carried by the crutch he leans on: having legs that aren’t his, arms that are held up by another, and having a heart that’s open enough to be foolishly honest.

But he doesn’t care what others think about him. He doesn’t care, so he’s able to stand underneath the most glorious of thunderstorms with his eyes and lips lifted up and his arms wide open, while the world around him trembles in fear and anticipation.

When the air he breathes flares enough to make the midnight clouds shine, he laughs in delight, and waits for the rush that comes with being rescued.


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