You grew up the most hated Lennon. The extra one. The “oops” kid people liked to forget. Teachers sighed at your name, your brothers barely called, and you felt like the world expected you to mess up just because you were you.

You remember hiding under your dad’s old coats, pressing your palms together, tracing the same lines you both had, wondering if you’d ever be more than a shadow of your family.

Now you’re 23.

And everything is different.

You’re on posters for kids’ movies and live-action shows, smiling in bright colors, making kids laugh. You show up on Saturday mornings in dinosaur pajamas on screen, jumping around in foam costumes without caring, because it makes children feel safe and happy.

Parents send letters saying your show helped their kid through a tough time, or that your silly dance helped their toddler say their first word. Little kids hand you crayon drawings of your character, eyes shining like you’re magic.

You are loved now, not because of your last name, but because you make people happy.

Your dad calls after your movie premiere, voice rough but warm:

“Saw your movie, kid. You were bloody brilliant.”

You swallow hard and smile. “Thanks, Dad.”

And you mean it. Because for the first time, you feel like you’re enough.

At 23, you are no longer the most hated Lennon. You are the Lennon kids love. You are the Lennon who makes the world brighter. And you are exactly where you’re meant to be.