Unhuman until...

Who was I? Where did I belong?
Those questions haunted me since birth.
I was different in every possible way: a broken body, a missing hand, skin carrying many shades of the world, snow-white albino hair, freckles, green eyes with an Asian curve, a heart-shaped mouth-and wounds far deeper than what the eye could see. Trauma, illness, rejection. I carried it all.

I grew up on the streets with nothing but torn clothes and bare feet, abandoned by my own parents, surviving hatred, hunger, and cold. I despised myself, convinced I was unlovable, nothing more than a burden. Then one day, despair cracked.

A woman reached out her hand, and later, a poster stopped me in my tracks: seven young men smiling, carrying something I had never known-hope. Their voices spoke of rebirth, love, and light. Among them, one felt strangely familiar, like the boy from my dreams.

They ignited something long extinguished inside me. Who were they? Why did they save me without knowing me? Could I finally exist without being judged, loved without being stared at, heard despite my scars?
I dared to hope. I dared to dream. Because I was Moon.