Austin, Texas [Suburbs] (12 years old)
I walk into the school building, relishing the feeling of cool air splitting across my face contrast the feeling of the dead summer heat. By my second middle school, I had perfected my act. A smiley, bubbly, happy individual with a bright mind and a great attitude. This was my act. This was my mask. With this, no one would look down on me, and no one could look past me. I was too large for life. I was a character, and my peers were my audience. I was an actor, and this was my show. I complimented everyone I could, was polite, caring, and considerate. No one could hate me, but no one could love me either. I wouldn’t let them. I had no interest in the affairs of boy nor girl, never had. My true self was isolated, walls firmly put in place for my protection. I wouldn’t allow anybody in. My ‘friends’ would leave me anyway. They would abandon me, Forget me. They always and had they always will. In my heart I could tell, I did not belong here either.
Del Valle, Texas (14 years old)
I met a girl called Miranda a few months ago. She’s tall, with platinum blonde hair that shone under the summer sun. She has deep brown eyes touched with a certain sadness unbeknownst to most of the population. Her beauty ruined by sickness, face pale and gaunt, stature skin and bones from Crohn's disease and Arthritis. I used to visit her whenever she goes back to the hospital. She was the only true friend I’d ever known, with a pure hearted soul and good intentions. I thought we were just meant to be friends. I should have known it was too good to be true. I never realized - I should have - the dangers looming near. Her father. He was odd, but I never would have thought anything of it. Until I did. He was close. Too close. Almost suffocating. I should have realized. It was what I got for bringing my walls down. I distanced myself, before it was too late. I lost my closest confidante, but I gained back my safety. Honestly, with Miranda, it was the most I’ve ever felt like I belonged. Her father took away my home, my heart, and I would never let it happen again. I would be more careful from that point on, watch, observe, and trust in my instincts; for they would be my only friend. I no longer belonged here; I had to leave, get out and start again. I would only be reminded of too much good, and too much bad. Yet again. I didn’t belong here either.
Lakeway, Texas (15 years old)
I tapped my shiny black shoes on the cold white floor in time to my absent-minded humming. Glancing over, I see people in my choir class - talking, laughing, playing - but I? I was merely observing. If someone had bothered to ask or look up, I would have carefully painted that same smile on my face and engaged in small talk. My mask, by my third high school, was second nature. My walls were thicker than the cement wall of a penitentiary. No one in - and most importantly - no one out. I didn’t even have to think about it at that point. I continued to observe, realizing something. None of them would ever know or ever even begin to understand my true personality. I would forever be an outsider, never belong. Then I discovered something else. I didn’t belong to a place, but no matter how different I was those who held my heart held my home, even if I didn’t show it.
"This was my act. This was my mask."
"This was my act. This was my mask."