The boy runs fast they say, the boy scores goals. The boy studies hard they say, the boy makes goals. The boy is beautiful they say, the boy is goals. He curls up inside himself as he listens, holds his stomach with his fingertips as if to hold it inside his body. If he lets go he is afraid his insecurities will come tumbling out and he whispers where no one can hear i am slow sometimes i am stupid sometimes i try too hard sometimes i am unhappy sometimes i dissapoint people sometimes i make bad decisions sometimes and i always blame myself He chokes on their words, sliding down his throat to wrap around his heart. He can feel them with each beat in his veins, and he struggles to breathe when his chest feels weighed down by so many words, both his and theirs, but he can't say them, cant shove them off because what if sometimes becomes always, and they don't want him anymore? Wonderboy they say, and he bites his tongue to keep the words from spilling out.
