There was once a tiny giant.

He was always alone. Always sad. Compared to the other giants, he was practically the size of an ant.

His mother still loved him, but his father thought of him as a disappointment.

“How is it possible we have a son so small when the both of us are so large?” he father constantly said.

“Size doesn’t matter,” his mother said.

But it does, the tiny giant thought. Because he was so small, no one wanted to be friends with him. No one bothered speaking to him.

I’m too different, he thought. Why can’t I be like the others?

So, to make him feel better, his mother gave him tiny objects. A tiny room. A tiny bed. Tiny clothing.

The tiny giant knew his mother was trying, but it still didn’t help. If anything, sleeping on a tiny bed and wearing tiny clothes was rather uncomfortable.

One day, the tiny giant thought. One day they will accept me.