πŸ’›βœ¨ β€œDo You See Me?” βœ¨πŸ’›

He held that little cardboard sign with both hands, like it carried the weight of the world πŸ“„πŸ’–. To him, it wasn’t just a question β€” it was a hope, a whisper into the universe, a quiet plea for acknowledgment.
He doesn’t fully understand β€œhandsome” the way adults do. What he feels is simpler, yet infinitely deeper: the pause when someone looks at him, the silence that follows, the way other kids receive smiles effortlessly while he wonders if he’s included πŸŒˆπŸ˜”.
So one day, his mom wrote a simple, courageous question. Not to beg. Not to prove anything. Just to open a door πŸšͺπŸ’›.
β€œAm I also handsome?”
But what he’s really asking is:
πŸ’Œ β€œDo you see me?”
πŸ’Œ β€œDo I make you smile too?”
πŸ’Œ β€œDo I belong in your world of kindness?”
He’s not seeking perfection. He’s seeking a chance. A chance to be met with warmth, to be accepted without explanation, to be loved simply because he exists πŸŒŸπŸ’ž.
This photo, this small moment, holds a lesson for all of us: Words matter. How we see others matters. How we treat people β€” especially children β€” shapes their sense of worth πŸ’–βœ¨.
If this reaches you today, let it be a call to action: leave him a little kindness in the comments πŸ’Œ. Say something you’d want every child you love to hear. Remind him, and all of us, that beauty is not only in the eyes that look, but in the hearts that care πŸŒˆπŸ’›.
Every child deserves to grow up believing they are seen, they are enough, and they are worthy of love β€” just as they are πŸ’›πŸ’«.