The Mind of Mr. Mak

  i came back to the place that used to break me. these halls used to hold everything i hated about myself: the insecurity, the jealousy, the fear of being seen. i used to walk with my head down — resenting people who were confident, resenting people who belonged, resenting people who weren’t drowning like me. i wasn’t actually angry at the world. i was angry at the version of me who didn’t know who he was. but today… i walked the same halls with a different spine. chest open. presence rooted. eyes steady. i didn’t want anyone’s approval. i didn’t need to be seen. i am. i used to be afraid to look people in the eyes. now i meet their gaze like i know something they don’t: i outgrew the world that used to intimidate me. i used to crave belonging. now i carry belonging inside me. school didn’t fail me. i outgrew the lesson. i was never meant to fit into the system. i was meant to build my own. carleton was not the beginning of my career. it w...

day 2 was a roller coaster. i started the morning in Barrhaven — the first place that ever felt like home. i traced the old bus routes i used to take to Carleton, walked through the plazas where i lifted weights, ate cheap meals, and tried to outrun loneliness. it felt like time folded in on itself. i wasn’t just revisiting places — i was revisiting versions of me. then i saw Bren. my old roommate. my brother. we spent a full year together — show marathons, wing and movie nights, late–night debates, shared meals, arguing about characters like it mattered more than life.  we did every little thing together. we were just 2 boys, away from home. lonely, but just needed company, the right company. those weren’t just memories. they were moments that held me together when i didn’t know how to hold myself. when he opened the door and saw me, he froze like he was looking at someone else. we hugged — and for a second, i felt every version of me collapse into ...