I was with one of my closest friends, Yuri. I also treated her as my younger sister so I called her dongsaengie, my play (sort of) on the Korean word 'dongsaeng', which was used to call someone who was younger than you.

Both of us were fans of K-Pop—her ultimately biased group being Super Junior and mine being Big Bang. Yuri and I were of the same high school year level.  We went out early this morning as we decided to jog from outside of the school to the city's pier.

On our way to the pier, we just brisk-walked while we talked about our K-pop idols. We'd been like this ever since a few years ago.

We didn't only communicate in Filipino and English, but also, in Korean, Japanese and Chinese. When Yuri and I got to the pier, we finally jogged as warm and fresh air greeted both of us.

On our left side, the sun sh, brightly, as ever. We slightly feel hot but because of the fresh air, we were perfectly fine.The city's pier was the best place to jog at. Here, you’d always see people jogging every morning.

We came to a halt as we sat down on a huge yet, smooth rock. I asked Yuri to get my phone from her super, full, small overnight bag. She obeyed and gave it to me.

We took pictures of us and the pier together. There, I started talking about my high school life. The best part was that I had many friends in school. The worst part was that many girls hated me.

I told my dongsaengie what happened to me on my first day of school as a freshman. I remembered the group, Twinkle, had approached me. I also told her what I did to that Jessica girl and how she stuttered when she snapped at me. It was obvious she was forced to threaten me.

“The heck? Who says my unni is a flirt?" Yuri made a face, using the Korean word 'unni' to refer to me as her older sister. "I believe, though I haven’t seen them, they are the flirtatious ones. Not you!”

I nodded in agreement. “I know, right?” I chuckled. “I mean, I am a very friendly and—”

“Childish person,” Yuri grinned, playfully.

I glared at her but then it disappeared as I continued, “and blah. Of course, I’d be friends with any genders—female, male, gays, and tomboys. How come I’d be a flirt?”

“Uh-huh,” the latter nodded, agreeing.

I continued to tell her a few things about my friends and what those groups of girls told me. We hung out some more until we decided to go to her house. When we were in her room, she sent me a K-pop ballad song via Bluetooth to my phone.

It was very relaxing and a balm to the ears and lovely. We started singing along with and practicing the right way to sing it. We read the lyrics through my phone. Soon after, the song ended.

“That’s your voice?” Yuri asked.

I nodded. “Neh. Wae?” (Yes. Why?)

“No joke?” she burst out.

“Yeah, wae?” I asked. (Yeah, why?)

She looked down, making a face. “I thought it wasn’t your normal singing voice. I mean, daum, why does your voice have to be sooooo cuuuuute?!” she looked up, dramatically. “Because of your cute voice, I also have to make my voice cute, too, when my voice becomes ugly if I make it cute and oh, my gosh!”

I laughed. “Yah, gwenchana!” (Hey, it’s okay!)

She shook her head, dramatically, and I rolled my eyes. She suddenly got up and switched the light off before sitting back on the bed. You see, Yuri here liked it when the light was off.

But to me, I didn’t like it, for I was reading. “Yah, you know my vision gets blurry when it’s dim,” I glared at her.

She grinned and shrugged. “Let’s just stop reading the lyrics of EXO's Angel.”

I pouted before locking my phone. The sunshine shone through the window of her room, lightly. And so, I began telling her about my friends during freshman. I had many friends, yes, but not all of them were true. I had this close friend, who was the daughter of our past adviser in grade 5. At first, we were very close, but as days passed by, she changed.

“How come she told you that you changed when she was the one who changed?” Yuri made a face.

It was good because she understood me. Being friends for a few years now, there was no doubt that she knew me who I really was. Now back to that friend, or rather, former friend.

She and another friend of hers had approached me. They told me that not because of they were ashamed when they were with me; they wanted me to stop wearing bonnets because they were ashamed. They were ashamed because I caught too much attention with my bonnet.

“Pssh… Yeah,” Yuri nods, sarcastically. “They weren’t ashamed, alright.”

“I know, right?” I rolled my eyes and plopped back on the bed. “Dude, I already started wearing bonnets since we were in elementary, when Myrtle wasn’t famous yet!”

It was true. If only they knew who I really was, then, they wouldn’t misinterpret me wearing bonnets. How, in the right mind, would I pretend as Myrtle when I was me? I wasn’t like those people that pretended.

I wa always a true person—true to everyone and true to myself. Some people told me: “You don’t even know who you are!” My only answer to them was: “No, you don’t know yourself.”

Think of this, guys, as to why I always said this. You’ll get it, really. Another example: a girl, one who flirtatiously acts, approaches you and tells you that you are a flirt (when you aren’t). If I were you, I’d reply them, “You don’t know yourself,” instead of saying, “You don’t know me so stop judging me.” Now, do you get it as to why I always said, “You don’t know yourself?”

Yuri sighed and yawned before plopping down the bed. “Yah, unni, don’t lie there. Lie beside me.” (Hey, older sis, don’t lie there. Lie beside me.)

She grabbed the pillow my head's resting at before placing it beside the pillow her head's resting at.

I shifted to lie beside her.

My dongsaengie yawned once again before turning her back on me. “I’m sleepy.”

I smiled and patted her head. “Sleep. I’ll wake you up later.”

She nodded and mumbled, “okay.”

I unlocked my phone and scanned my playlist. My eyes stopped at a K-pop ballad song. I pressed play. I sang along as I patted and caressed Yuri’s head. Whenever I sang, there was always a lump in my throat.

I caould almost barely let my singing voice out for some reason. As I like, tucked Yuri into sleep, I still sang, not caring if I was clearing my throat from time to time, for my voice sounded hoarse.

Back in school, I gotta say that my freshman year isn't like I’d expected. I still remember how my first day in school went. It was already break time halfway the morning school hours, and students were everywhere.

I had just been from the canteen and was heading back to my classroom. Sadly, I was the forgetful type. It also meant I was disoriented, easily. With my favorite black bonnet covering my head, I searched for my classroom as I was reading facts about my beloved, G-Dragon, through my phone. Boys suddenly approached me and I smiled.

They were my classmates when I was in elementary. We chatted a bit before heading to where we were going. I went back to reading on my phone and a fact of GD caught my eye.

It was said that he liked taking pictures or he was interested in photography. I grabbed my milk-chocolate drink called Chuckie. I unglued the straw off of the pack.

I then pressed it to where the ‘fun’ would start and started sipping.

I walked faster, my left hand holding the drink, lips wrapping around the top straw, the other hand holding onto my phone, and head facing skyward—deep in thoughts.

Suddenly, a girl I didn’t know blocked my way, making me stop walking right in front of her. Behind her were four other girls with their arms crossed and smirks played on their lips. I guessed they were a group.

"Yes, may I help you?” I started.

I was deep in thought of GD’s interest in photography that my eyes were blank, not really focused on this girl.

She turned to the girls behind her then back to me. “W-well… you are such a… such a flirt!”

That snapped me a back to reality. I huffed, inwardly. I was guessing these girls’ approach was for telling me I was a flirt when I wasn’t.

A mocking smile played on my lips. “Me?” I pointed to myself. “A flirt?” I chuckled. “Really? How come?”

The girls behind her stood at the side for some reason.

“Yeah, you are a flirt because… because you always flirt around guys!” the girl in front of me pouted, angrily.

A mocking chuckle escaped my throat. “Pssh… Girl, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

It was true. She didn’t know what she was saying. Heck, this girl was stuttering, which meant she was just forced to approach me.

She huffed. “Of course, I do! You always talk to guys as though you are close!”

Once again, I huffed, inwardly. I was a freshman here so she didn’t know who I really was. What she didn’t know was that me and those old male classmates of mine were close.

“Are we close, then?” I smirked, mockingly.

The girl made a face. “Jeez! Never!”

“Great,” I smiled.

I was about to walk past her when she stopped me by the collar. In a blink of an eye, I also had her by the collar. I looked down at my blouse—the first top button was undone.

It must’ve been undone when she grabbed my collar.

I looked up to her. “Listen, I am not a flirt. If you dare mess up with me the next time, sure enough, your face is already on—or rather, facing—the ground,” I clenched my packed drink, causing its milk-chocolate liquids to drip down my hands.

I actually felt like I was in a Korean drama—just an average girl, walking in the school campus when suddenly, bullies surrounded me. If the person in that drama was bullied, it meant that he was a weakling. But me?

I wasn’t a weakling, thank you very much. I pulled the girl to my front. With that, I hurled my Chuckie in front of her, causing the rest of the liquid to stain her blouse.

Absentmindedly, I wiped my hand on her blouse. I stormed off. Actually, I didn’t mean to hurl the drink in front of her. I wasn’t a mean girl. I just happened to accidentally hurl the drink in front of me, where she was standing at.

After a few minutes, I finally got to my classroom. As soon as I got there, my new friends approached me. They told me that Jessica cried because of what I did to her.

Because of I didn’t know who she was, they told me that she was the newest member of the group, Twinkle. My friends told me more about them. Not to mention, they were impressed at what I did. I only knew the members of Twinkle because they said that the leader wasn’t someone to talk about.

As days passed by, I kept getting threats and harsh words. Before I knew it, 2 weeks had passed already. It was our P.E. day. I remembered when I got back to the classroom from the restroom; my shoelaces were scattered on the floor.

Sure enough, someone had cut them. Reluctantly, I bent down and took them. I was very angry inside but I couldn’t burst out. I felt my energy drain.

I was thinking: how could they do this to me? Was I a bad person to be treated like this? Why would they do this to me? Did I do something wrong?

Million thoughts ran through my head.

I felt like crying but trying to be strong as I could, I didn’t do so. Because of there was no choice, I just wore my pink doll shoes paired with fit jogging pants and a t-shirt. When it was time, our coach didn’t let me join, for I wasn’t wearing rubber shoes.

When P.E. ended, Twinkle approached me.

“Oh, my gosh!” Victoria started. “Sunny! It was a pity you were prohibited to play volleyball!”

“Yeah, Sun-sun!” Sulli agreed, nodding.

Tiffany swung her arm on my shoulder but I shrugged it away with a tut of my tongue. “Aww, would you like to borrow Krystal’s rubber shoes? If not, you’d not be able to practice playing volleyball this afternoon.”

My eyes lit up. Albeit I didn’t know who Krystal was, but knew her by the looks, I’d expected that she’d lent me her rubber shoes. “You’d do that?”

The girl, who I presumed was Krystal, guffawed. “Of course, not! For stealing Twinkle’s handsome husbands and acting like Myrtle, why would I? Oh, and not to mention, you’re a flirt!”

The girls guffawed before leaving me dumbfounded. I clenched my fists and my jaw. I didn’t like them at all.

Two months had passed and people called me “The duplication of Myrtle.” Every time I walked anywhere, I caught too much attention, according to this particular friend. And whenever I left, I came back with my bag missing.

The bad thing was I always found it everywhere. I once found it at the center of the school ground. The worse thing was some students put trashes in my bag.

And the worst thing was they wrote colorful words on my pink bag one time, using permanent markers.

When I went back home, I pleaded the maid not to tell this to my family and do anything to remove the writings off of my bag.

Then, there were times I went back home with dirt-covered clothes. Our maid always scolded me because of my clothes were covered in dirt. When she asked, I just answered her that it was because of playing volleyball.

But the truth was it was because of those people who hated me.