Back then, I felt I was different. The incessant talks of the girls in class really annoyed me while the games and fights of boys didn't caught my interest. Don't get me wrong. My grades could prove I wasn't a dysfunctional kid. It was just that the four corners of the classroom didn't give me an edge to feel the sense of belongingness.

As I reached high school, my difference grew more. My classmates would poke fun about the way I moved. They would call me names and run like a hunchback. I had no idea if that was how I ran or they were just exaggerating things for their pleasure. When in class sessions, I would keep the words under my tongue because they would just laugh at my voice if I would recite. For them, each part of me was a piece of joke. That was when I hated myself.

My natural tendency to ease the pain was either to cry in front of my mirror or pour it onto paper. Either way, I let go all the burden I collected for a day, so I could be an empty barrel again to catch the heavy raindrops the next day. But I didn't want to live this kind of life forever. So, I made up a plan I thought the best. I opened the drawer, and looked at the mirror, and pulled up the mask I wished I didn't wear.

The following year of my high school life turned out to be something I expected. Those painful memories never occured to me again. With new classmates, I found real friends who I liked to be with. I felt happy. But in the back of my mind, someone whispered, "This wasn't the true happiness you seek." Right, what I was showing to them was a mock show. I was portraying a character, the society asked from me. I badly wanted to tell my friends about this, but I was scared. I was chained by the reactions I could receive. The fact that I lied haunted me. I didn't want to lose them.

When I supposed things wouldn't work out, a thought of being imprisoned boggled my mind. I wanted to break free, but the norms of society are wild lions I couldn't tame. Yet, in an abrupt twist of fate, when the roads were winding, I made the right turn, and I was out of the woods.

I wouldn't forget that day my teacher changed my outlook to my difference. It was in our last grading period when she asked us to write an essay about our personal problem, how we solved it and how it changed us. I knew what I would write, but I wasn't able to solve that problem.

A week later, our teacher returned our essays. I expected bad comments about mine since I hadn't followed her instructions. But I was dumbfounded to read her message that still keeps me euphoric even until now. She wrote cooly, "Hey, I won't go technical right now. I just want to say I like your essay. Mike, love yourself. How you define yourself is more important than people's opinions." Honestly, I was teary at that point. Someone understood how I felt. From those simple words, I found a great courage to pursue who I wanted to be.

Before our graduation, I managed to confess my secret to my friends. I waited them to mock and humiliate me, but I received a reassuring hug with the words flowing, "We know, and it doesn't matter." Tears of joy filled my eyes. They accepted me together with my baggage. That whether I was intact or crooked, I, too, am a human who seeks happiness.

I have come to realize that acceptance truly matters. I regretted hating myself, but in the end, I found to love myself again. I thank all the people who understood me, especially to my family that embraced me right from the start. Now, I have wholly accepted myself, and that made me feel happy and peaceful. I have found my own voice to say confidently, "I am free."

Finally, the mask comes to its eternal rest.