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   Some of us don't get the life we want. I learned that the hard way. I learned that the painful way. As it varies in our origin, the fate that was placed for us is solely different from the fate we wanted. This world of wonders that we live, whether it'd be dark or light, can either hold the greatest miracle of humanity, or behold upon the cruelest force deadly for humanity.

   We don't get the things we want unless we work hard for it.

   As many would say in the past, I was an aspiring kid. Designated for the top of the seats, top of every leaderboard, a perfect figure of decency. Everyone envied me. Everyone said I was gifted, that I had a mind that exceeds those of the general average, and a quirk that despises even some of the pro heroes.

   We can't get too comfortable when we're living in the present. The future that was prepared for us was still closed behind the doors, you'll never expect the unexpected things to come. Living the life that I wanted, what more could I ask for? There wasn't any day where I would receive any negativity. I was perfect as I could be. However, regardless of what I've done and achieved, as I proved myself more than I was capable of, at the end of the day, naivety at such a young age still wins.

   Will I ever be the person that I aspire to be?

   I like to keep track of the things that are new and familiar to me. I like writing, I like the feeling of the pen on my grip, scribbling those scraggly words that are associated with my mind. Thanks to it, I can always read those interesting thoughts that I once forgot or thought I wasn't capable of.

   Amidst this constant gaze and attention that I grew up with, I felt trapped, silently trapped. You can't say that a person is okay just because you saw the way he or she acted – happy and outgoing. You have to dig deeper, find that faint shade. It's difficult when you are constantly criticized for the slightest bit of imperfection. I was certain of myself. It was inevitable. I was sure of it. Deep down, I knew I was different from the others. I may act the same as everybody, however, all of it wasn't natural. Everything I did was for the sake of my hard-earned image that I desperately tried to maintain. Everyone always asked what I wanted in my life, yet nobody thought of even bothering to ask how I am. They didn't really care about the process of every hardship, what mattered to them was the result.

   Yet even the most high-tech machineries are bound to show some errors. Like me, these challenges that come and go, just shows how vulnerable I am. I couldn't suppress it any longer. I felt like dying if I didn't let it all out. I needed to let it all out, and so I did.

   "Mom, Dad... I have a confession."

   It's odd to think that you're more likely to remember those bad moments in your life than your good ones. Like a retrospect, so vivid and immaculate, every image, every detail, even the feeling of my deep breaths leaving my body. I could remember it freshly.

   I remember it so vividly as they stopped with their food, that uncomfortable sound of the spoons and fork that suddenly stopped clanging. My breath hitched, and my eyes wandered in desperation as I didn't want to look at them straight at their eyes. They waited for me to speak. I could still remember how muffled and intricate my brain was moving at that time in contrast to my precise and lavish image. And after grasping all of my confidence, I finally told them.

   "I-Im gay..."

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