During my elementary days, my classmates would always tease me that I'm chubby. They also tend to criticize how I look, how I move, and how I present myself to the class. There were times when some of them regarded me as "gay" because of my hairstyle and outfit. I must admit that looking back, I indeed looked awful. Of course, that was not that of an issue for me back then. But there was this one scenario that I believe was personally a really big deal. We were conducting our flag ceremony inside our 5th grade class when all of a sudden, one of our classmates attacked and insulted me using the words "baboy" or pig, and "babat" or a person having a bloated belly, in a derogatory way. I remembered crying so loud and desperately wanting them to stop. I could not recall what happened next, but what instilled to me from that point was that I am what they told me I am. I resemble a pig. I have a bloated belly. I look like a gay. I am chubby. I started to be excessively conscious of myself and how people think about me. Their perception of me being a smart student also added up to the pressure I carried. It's like there were always eyes of people around me, ready to pierce me with their judgmental stares whenever I commit any shortcomings or mistakes. That was truly a difficult phase of my childhood, and it is from there that I started establishing a sense of my self-image.
Transitioning to 7th grade, I was grateful that I was able to surpass that burden. Fortunately, my environment has changed, and the people around me has treated me well. Overtime, as I made different experiences together with my newly-found friends, I became more at ease and comfortable in expressing my true self. The self-image that i was continuously constructing has gradually changed and improved. Although there are still instances that I reminisce those times when I was bullied, I always remind myself that what they have inflicted on me cannot be undone. It was up to me if I will still choose to be imprisoned on my past, or move forward and deal with the wounds that it caused. In the end, I decided to let go of what has already transpired, and took away valuable lessons from it.
While I was getting more mature, I have realized that my previous classmates' definition of me does not truly define who I am, because the only one who knows me best is me. I am more than what their words mean. Clinging to this realization, I learned to become more confident and less afraid of other's judgments and impressions.
If I couldn't improve how the world sees me, then its better for me to improve how I see myself. Besides, no matter what others say, it wouldn't change anything. I am still the person that I am destined to become. I may have "flaws" or something that others may not like about me, but that is their problem, not mine. I am proud of what I am and how I am. This is me. I am me.
