On Being Different

 On Being Different

I always knew I was different,

even before I had the words for it.

And I knew it wasn’t safe—

I had heard what they called boys like me.

So I hid.

I ran.

I tried to be normal.

It hollowed me out—

into despair,

into self-loathing.

To survive, I learned to wear masks.

Carefully made.

Convincing.

A different version of me for every room.

But it was never enough.

It could never be enough.

Eventually, I grew tired—

of performing,

of shrinking,

of living inside expectations that were never mine.

So I began to unmask.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Piece by piece,

I let myself be seen.

Not perfect—

but real.

Shaped by pain,

forged through confusion.

I no longer try to pass as normal.

I never was.

Now I stand unmasked—

as I am.

Proud.

Unapologetic.

Because authenticity will always

outlive the mask.

And what is true—

is real,

is valid,

is enough.