🌍 Story Series: Michael's Journey to Understanding His Identity [Part 2 – Shadows Behind the Smile]

in Steem Kids & Parents • 2 days ago
🌸 Opening Greeting:

Hello, wonderful Steemians! 👋
How’s everyone doing today? I hope you’re having a warm and peaceful day wherever you are. I’m thrilled to welcome you back to the second installment of Michael's Journey to Understanding His Identity.

This story, though fictional, mirrors the reality many children face in silence. As parents, caregivers, mentors, and compassionate human beings, it’s crucial we step into their shoes—even if just for a moment—to understand the battles they don’t always have the words to express.

So, grab a quiet moment, maybe a cup of tea or juice, and join me as we journey deeper into Michael’s world… where silence speaks volumes.

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Part 2 – Shadows Behind the Smile


At school, Michael had mastered the art of blending in.
He laughed at the right jokes, wore the latest football jerseys, and pretended to swoon over the same celebrities his friends liked. No one questioned his act—not even his teachers. To them, he was just another boy doing what boys do: roughhousing at break time, avoiding homework until the last minute, and fidgeting in class.

But beneath that surface, Michael lived in constant conflict.

One day, during literature class, the teacher asked everyone to write an essay titled “Who Am I?”.
The assignment was meant to be simple. Just a page or two describing your personality, hobbies, dreams, and maybe a bit about your background.

For most students, it was straightforward. But for Michael, that question—Who am I?—stabbed deep.

He stared at his blank sheet of paper while the rest of the class scribbled away. The words wouldn’t come. Not because he lacked thoughts, but because he had too many… and none of them felt safe to put down.

“I’m someone who smiles a lot,” he finally wrote.
“I like football, my mum’s cooking, and Saturday cartoons.”

That part was true. But it wasn’t the full story.

What he didn’t write—the part he erased and re-erased—was:

“I’m also scared… every day.
I feel things I can’t explain, and I worry that if anyone found out, they’d stop loving me.”

That day, he handed in a version of himself that the world expected—a carefully edited story missing its most important chapter.


At home, things weren’t easier. His father was a kind man but held strong opinions about what it meant to be a "real man." He often made casual comments that stuck to Michael’s heart like tiny thorns.

“That boy from down the road... Always acting funny. His parents need to fix him quick before he turns into something worse.”

Worse?
Was that what people thought someone like Michael would become?

He began to internalize the shame. Every innocent glance at a classmate, every moment he caught himself feeling different, felt like proof of something he needed to hide.

But hiding it didn’t stop the emotions. If anything, it made them more intense.
He would lie awake some nights, curled under his blanket, listening to the muffled hum of the ceiling fan. His mind would spin with thoughts:

“Why am I like this?
Maybe if I prayed harder, it would go away.
Maybe if I tried to like girls, I could ‘fix’ myself.”

So he did. He tried.

There was a girl in class—Amara—kind, soft-spoken, and always lending her colored pens to anyone who asked. Michael forced himself to “like” her. He even wrote her a note once, telling her she had nice handwriting. She smiled, thanked him, and blushed a little.

Everyone teased him about it for a week.

Michael smiled too. But inside, he felt like a fraud.
He wasn’t being true to himself—just playing the part of someone he was supposed to be. Someone safe. Someone “normal.”


The loneliness of pretending began to weigh him down.

At school, during lunch breaks, he sometimes isolated himself—pretending he had a stomach ache or forgotten his lunch. He would sit behind the old mango tree near the sports field, tracing shapes in the sand with a stick.

One afternoon, while sitting there, he saw a senior student named Kelechi walk past with a group of friends. Kelechi had always struck Michael as different—quiet, artistic, often alone, and always sketching something in his notebook.

Michael wondered if maybe… just maybe… Kelechi felt the same way he did.

But how do you ask someone a question you’re afraid to ask yourself?

“Hey, do you ever feel like you don’t fit in?”
“Do you ever pretend just so people won’t see the real you?”

He never asked. The fear was too strong.
So instead, he watched Kelechi disappear around the corner, carrying his secrets just like Michael carried his own.


Then came the night that changed everything.

Michael’s mother had gone to a women’s prayer meeting, and his father was dozing off in the living room. Michael sneaked into the study, opened the old family laptop, and typed into the search bar:

“Why do I like boys and not girls?”

The results poured in—some articles filled with condemnation, others filled with stories. Real stories. Stories of people who had felt like him, thought like him, and cried like him. Some were from other teens; others from adults who had once been teenagers just like him.

One story, in particular, made him pause.

It was from a 16-year-old boy who wrote:

“I used to think I was broken.
But the truth is, I was just hidden.”

Michael stared at that line for a long time.
Hidden. That word echoed in his mind like a song he’d always known but never sung out loud.

For the first time, he didn’t feel completely alone.


That night, Michael didn’t cry. He didn’t pray for the feelings to go away.
Instead, he wrote in his journal:

“Maybe I’m not a mistake.
Maybe I’m just different.
And maybe one day, I’ll understand what that means… fully.”


🌿 Closing Regards:

Thank you, dear readers, for walking with Michael through another chapter of his emotional journey.

This part was especially difficult to write—not just because of the pain Michael is feeling, but because it reflects a reality many young people silently live through every day. Silence can be heavy. But storytelling? Storytelling can lift the weight, even if just a little.

Let’s continue to create safe spaces, where children are allowed to feel, to question, and to be—without fear of rejection.

Doe I may be expecting to receive votes, but... Your comments, and thoughts are so appreciated.
Please feel free to share your reflections or similar experiences in the comments.

Part 3 is coming soon—and trust me, things are beginning to shift in Michael’s world.

Until then… be kind, be gentle, and always listen with your heart. 💛

With warm regards,

@steemkidss
@dannyben39 ✍️