Work Text
Sam felt...different.He knew that it was just his own lack of spatial awareness. He knew other people struggled, thought, and felt, just as deeply as he did.He knew that. But he had a hard time believing it.At times, he believed that he thought about and analyzed things too deeply, to the point that he felt stuck in his head. His obsessive brain completely stuffed full of one detailed subject. But when he shared these thoughts and conclusions, others laughed. Not maliciously, but enough so that he felt belittled for overthinking and oversharing a subject he initially thought to be world definingly interesting. Now he only felt ashamed of said subject and would resolve to either hide it or try never to think of it again.Other times, he felt dumb and empty. His brain just a useless organ that could never think, process, or follow a train of thought the same way others did. If he voiced a question, the answer would seem apparent immediately. Others would look at him, facial expressions twisted, hiding thoughts of incredulity at his stupidity. A few would even make comments, not malicious, but belittling (again).Sam learned not to share. Not to say. His thoughts and opinions were his own. He learned to parrot moods, actions, thoughts, and beliefs. To become the mirror that others wanted to see. So that they felt heard and so that they felt understood.
So that Sam felt safe.No one else needed to know if his brain was full or empty. No one needed to know Sam. The real, original him. The him who had shared without any fear. Who had argued for what he believed to be true. Who knew who he was.But practice made perfect, and now that Sam, the true Sam, was just a memory of the past. Only a scared little boy remained in stead of the man he was meant to become. The little boy who only knew how to hold a mirror up for others and preferred to be left alone, because...because what if he messed up? What if he wasn't enough? Was hurt by those he sought love and approval from?A soulless boy who had turned the figurative lights off and was just waiting for his last chapter.He was sick of the book already. Getting to the back cover was the goal. Fuck the actual pages. He couldn’t wait until the end.