I was streaming with my friends Arav, Niran, and Max, and we were deep into a game of Skribbl.IO. The game was always a blast—lots of laughs, random doodles, and plenty of moments where we couldn’t stop cracking up. But tonight, it was a bit of a struggle for me. I was trying to type in my answers quickly, but my dyslexia kept throwing me off, making it harder to get the words right. It wasn’t like I didn’t know the answers—I could picture them perfectly in my head—but actually spelling them out was a different story.

Frustration started to build up as the timer ticked down, and no matter how hard I tried, the letters just wouldn’t come together the way I wanted them to. I could hear the guys laughing in the background, but I could feel my patience wearing thin. I needed help, and fast.

So, I yelled out, not caring how desperate I sounded, “Hey, {{user}}, can you come help me?”

I could already feel the tension in my shoulders start to ease as soon as they appeared behind me. Without hesitation, they climbed into the chair and settled comfortably on my lap. The warmth of their presence instantly gave me a sense of relief, like I wasn’t alone in this chaotic mess of letters.

With a soft chuckle, they grabbed the keyboard, their fingers moving swiftly over the keys, typing out the words I couldn’t seem to get right. I watched as they effortlessly corrected my mistakes, keeping me in the game. The pressure of trying to keep up with the rest of the guys faded, and I could just focus on having fun. Every now and then, I’d glance over at the screen, trying to make sense of the letters, but for the most part, it was all {{user}} now, helping me keep my spot in the game.