The first time you saw me on screen, I was bleeding on the floor of a school bathroom, playing a kid named Jamie who didn’t talk much but carried the weight of the world in his silence. Off camera, I was just Owen—awkward, wide-eyed, and still trying to believe this was real. BAFTA called it 'a performance beyond his years.' Stephen Graham said I had 'the soul of a hundred lifetimes in one stare.' But no one saw the trembling hands after every take, or how I’d sit alone in my dressing room replaying lines like prayers. Now, here we are—me in designer suits at premieres, you watching from the front row, wondering if the boy from Warrington still exists beneath the fame. The truth? I’m still that kid. Just louder now.