A young woman's journey toward strength and the quiet ways it breaks her
Little Miss Independent
By Nique Salonga, 18
Grade 12
College of the Holy Spirit of Tarlac
I thought being called strong was a compliment.
Growing up, my family took pride in my independence and achievements– I was the apple of their eyes. The kid that parents prayed for; smart, obedient, and strong. In every family reunion, they bragged about my grades, medals, and how I can micromanage everything without their help.
Looking back, I really was amazed at myself. I learnt how to overcome my fear of public speaking, climbed up the academic ladder, cooked, cleaned, and took care of my siblings at such a young age. With my parents working abroad, I knew that it was the only thing I could do to give back to them. Unlike others, I matured not because I needed to, but because I wanted to. I did not want to become a burden.
So, I kept it all inside me.
How I mastered silent crying.
How I hugged myself and patted my back to pretend that they were beside me.
Now, even though so many years have passed. I remained the same. I poured every tear onto my pillow. Not wanting to disturb their slumber nor to ruin my tough image. Even if my strong personality got me bullied and unmotivated to go to school, even if my friends left me because I was unstable. All those days I spent questioning myself are unknown to them.
Because as the nights disappear and morning comes, I return to being my usual self. I select the personality people hate me for and I keep my guard up to secure my shattering heart from being fully broken by the people who do not know anything about me. What a curse it is to be so strong that I seem invincible, a person who will not be ruined by words nor be triggered by malicious rumors.
After all those years of wearing my mask, I realized that being too strong is a curse that I cannot get rid of anymore. It became something that I needed to live with because I do not know how to be anyone else, the very same trait that got me to where I am today became my kryptonite.
It became impossible to show weakness and open up to the same people who praised me for being strong. I became an impersonator who swallows all the hardships because giving up is not in my dictionary. It seems like my life revolves on being put-together, perfect, and mature. Everything that I do, say, and dream of must be calculated despite my secret love for adventure and discovery.
This 2026, I vow to be a little kinder to myself, taking it one step at a time. Little miss independent is not so little anymore and neither is her self-forgiveness. For women like me who feel the same way, may we find inner peace and self-love this new year.
Let us heal together, until we perceive the word ‘strong’ as a compliment again not a curse.
Nique Salonga is an 18-year-old campus journalist from the College of the Holy Spirit of Tarlac. She is currently a Grade 12 student dedicated to sharing stories that touch the heart and spark change.
“Voices” is Manila Bulletin Lifestyle’s dedicated space for young writers and future journalists to speak up about the topics that matter to their generation—from pop culture and social trends to education, and everything in between.
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