you stare at the floor after saying something wonderful, like you've said too much. and for years to come, you'll spend long nights wondering why they speak over you, or roll their eyes, it'll drive you crazy trying to figure out how they don't even realise when you stop speaking mid-sentence. and i'm so sorry for the length of time it will take your older self to unpick it all, to banish those voices that are so good at making you feel so small. but sometime soon, you might feel hands on your shoulders, your older self reaching out from a time not so far in the future, tilting your chin up, pleading baby, speak up.