When Dan was younger, he was soft.
He was a quiet person, and looked young for his age.
He had faint freckles, speckling the bridge of his nose and under his eyes, where he had tired brown orbs that closed when he was leaning back and listening to his favourite music. He gave a meek smile to anyone who looked in his direction, and really just wanted to be told that he knew what he was doing and that what he was doing was right.
But Dan was so soft. He had no shape. He did not know what his mold should be. He remained an ambiguous and naive person, waking up and falling back asleep every day on repeat.
He did not know where he was to fit into. What form to fill.
He did not know where he was to go in life.
He was so soft, he was undefined, and did not know his purpose.
Now Dan is sharp.
He is all lines. Lines outlining the ideas from his brain and the curves on his body. He beams proudly, and does not slouch, and is not as soft.
He is still soft. But now he is sharp and precise and full of knowing.
Dan has edges. He knows his purpose. He has been molded into who he wants to be.
