Childhood should be marked by crayons and playgrounds, but for us, it was escape routes and hushed voices. Whispered warnings replaced bedtime stories, and our footprints left no trace, born as we were into the restrictionless void of a paperless existence. It's a feeling I can only describe as being both invisible and exposed—a paradox few are able to comprehend. That paradox was my anchor until words offered me their lifeline decades later.