He was the kind of kid who made the sun seem lazy.

Bright eyes. Loud laugh. Energy that never asked for permission. He ran like time didn't exist, made friends with shadows, and told stories to birds like they were old school buddies.

The world was a stage, and he owned the script.

Until? he didn't.

One day - no crash, no lightning, no scream - just a quiet switch.

Something turned off inside him.

He couldn't remember what, or why.

Only that the air around him felt heavier. People's voices, louder. Their eyes, sharper.

He stopped dancing in public.

He stopped speaking first.

And eventually, he stopped speaking at all.

He watched more than he lived now.

A thousand opinions in his mind, none on his lips.

He became a canvas for others - painted over, scribbled on. The kind of boy who got used, because he forgot how to say "no."

But at night - oh, at night - the dreams came like color.

He was a pirate, a hero, a wizard, a wanderer.

He lived a hundred lives in the safety of his sleep.

And slowly, through the cracks of silence, the dreamer started to breathe louder than the fear.

This is the story of that boy.

The boy who forgot his light.

And the journey of remembering it - one starlit dream at a time.