I polish off that psychic suit of armor i haven't had to use in years, and hope they won't make me wear it. They take that tiny piece you show them and they assume they have access to your thoughts. And they label you, maybe only in jest, but all the same it still hurts. Suddenly, more and more that label is your identity, and it becomes a tool for your own undoing. It happened years ago once, with some old friends, and i thought i had outgrown it and found some who could understand.
Understanding is a lie.
And they never know how the jokes at your expense are eating you up inside. Thats why they never make me laugh, thats why i used to get angry when people told them. Even she thought i was obsessed with Galadriel. She never really labeled me like they do, but sometimes I think deep down inside i look weaker in her eyes because of it. I never know whats going on.