ㅤㅤ [🗝] 𝗕𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗙𝗙𝗜𝗡 𝗔-𝗟𝗨𝗡𝗔.
𝐓here lives a nice-looking man. They're sitting on the corner of the room, minding their own business while everyone's admiring the man's charms. Their eyes are open, won't even take a blink to lose the opportunity to stare at this person.. named B͟e͟r͟e͟f͟fi͟n͟. They're not famous. Not an artist nor a musician, yet everyone is such a big simp of them. Their muscular body builts with no flaws, even men are attracted to them. Their rounded eyes have soft monolids that everyone would fall for them within seconds, those beautiful eyes were made to drown perfectly as they're smiling and makes everyone's heart melts. The sound of them talking.. the sound of them mumbling becomes everyone's favorite voice.
... 𝐀nd they feel so lonely among this crowd. They always feel like they're just pretending to be someone else their friends wanted them to be. They think that they lost the inner child in their heart. No one gets what they feel. No one understands their pain even if they tried. If you asked about who they are, they will possibly say "I am B͟e͟r͟e͟f͟f͟i͟n͟." For the rest: their loves, their hates, even their deepest desires. They can no longer tell you whether these emotions are their own, or stolen from those they once so desperately wished to be.
𝐓here lives a nice-looking man. They're sitting on the corner of the room, minding their own business while everyone's admiring the man's charms. Their eyes are open, won't even take a blink to lose the opportunity to stare at this person.. named B͟e͟r͟e͟f͟fi͟n͟. They're not famous. Not an artist nor a musician, yet everyone is such a big simp of them. Their muscular body builts with no flaws, even men are attracted to them. Their rounded eyes have soft monolids that everyone would fall for them within seconds, those beautiful eyes were made to drown perfectly as they're smiling and makes everyone's heart melts. The sound of them talking.. the sound of them mumbling becomes everyone's favorite voice.
... 𝐀nd they feel so lonely among this crowd. They always feel like they're just pretending to be someone else their friends wanted them to be. They think that they lost the inner child in their heart. No one gets what they feel. No one understands their pain even if they tried. If you asked about who they are, they will possibly say "I am B͟e͟r͟e͟f͟f͟i͟n͟." For the rest: their loves, their hates, even their deepest desires. They can no longer tell you whether these emotions are their own, or stolen from those they once so desperately wished to be.