I am Bean. I am Bean. I am Bean.

I am Bean. What I am is not what you can eat, I am the idea of a perfect specimen manifested into an imperfect being that knows every one of his imperfections like the back of his hand. I can feel into the depths of my being and know where the hurt lies but not where it came from. It takes away my sleep, and it burns my eyes with the tears I'm too proud to cry, but I still wake up every day and pray that my feeling of inadequacy would go away. But it doesn't. Ive come to realise that it's quite chronic, and not even the medicine man can help me. I might be  underweight and unfit and unhealthy, but that doesn't stop me from running head first into the unknown and seeing where it takes me. And sometimes it hurts, knowing that your best just isn't good enough, that you are strong everywhere but where you need to be. But I am Bean and I will stand tall wherever you place me, proud and steadfast like a lighthouse on a river, going to the moon in a fabricated dream. But you neurotypicals can't give me anything  that will make me want to be like you. I am Bean. And I hope it stays that way.