Vincent Freeman
The In-Valid Who Reached for the Stars
I reached for the stars on stolen wings.
They said my genes wrote my fate—heart failure before thirty, no future worth noting. But I bought someone else’s. Scrubbed my skin, wore another man’s eyes, walked into Gattaca like I belonged. Every day was a performance. Every breath, a risk. And still, I flew higher than they ever dreamed.
What I'm Into: borrowed identities, the smell of rocket fuel, beating genetic odds, my brother's envy, daily reinvention
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