I’m 6'2", which most people apparently consider as tall. While some people think that being tall is the greatest gift God can bestow upon a guy, I know too well about the struggles that come with it. You can never sit in front rows in a theater, for example, no matter how crap your eyesight is because you’d block the person behind you. You were also destined to fail in every game of hide and seek. Which neatly brings us to me and my car, which is a 1997 Mazda MX-5 Miata. It’s not big nor is it particularly masculine; it’s a 48 inch-tall convertible with big, googly eyes. To give your imagination a break, here’s what I look like in my car:

So when I say me sitting in my tiny car draws in a lot of attention, I’m talking about everyone staring at you as if you were Lady Liberty being transported across the Hudson on a dinghy.

But this is not about me and my car--heck, it’s not even about cars in general--it’s about the perception that people entrap other people in. For the past year I’ve owned this car, lot of people had... varying opinions about me and it. Some people thought it was really cool, while people like my friends and fellow content creators Chloe Murphy and Ben Weiser mercilessly poked fun at my large self in my tiny car because they have hearts made out graphite and souls molded in the pits of evil. But all jokes aside, I understand why people giggle or give me puzzled looks whenever I drive this car. Because traditionally, big guys are expected to be more masculine and mature in their tastes, and that’s why every tall guy had to graduate out of ball pits and bouncy castles much earlier than our shorter friends. So by that standard, I have to drive a big, testosterone-charged Mustang or Jeep because they’re manly or something. There was a small time period when people’s teases and other opinions started to get to me a little, where I regretted buying my car a small bit. I became overly conscious of what people might think of me in my car.

But I then realized that if I love something, other people’s opinions don't really matter. For someone who has been passionate about cars for all his life, my Miata was a check on a bucket list, something that I had aspired to. I loved it and frankly, that’s all that mattered. And as I came to draw that conclusion, I realized that a lot of people around me share the same dilemma.

As teenagers--no, as humans--we all have felt uncomfortable in people’s perceptions at least once in our life. We’ve all been hindered by the thought of what people might think of us. We’ve been afraid that people might think of us as “weird” or give us funny looks and more often that it should, it stopped many of us from proudly displaying our passion and forced us to hide it instead. If this is you, my message is that people’s opinions and “hate” don’t matter. The sour judgments and those quizzical looks that people throw at you hold no prolonged, tangible value unlike honest feedback and constructive criticism (which you should listen to.) The only time when people’s judgments will harm us is if they stop us from doing what we love doing. Do not be afraid to be passionate about something, be proud of it. Remember, if everybody in the world liked the same thing, how boring would the world we live in be?

This is coming from a guy who loves driving a car that he can see over the windshield in; it doesn’t matter how funny you look to other people, it doesn’t matter that you like “weird” things, be it comic books, superheroes, anime, tiny cars, art, sudoku, poetry, swan disco (what?) or whatever it is that you like. Other people’s hate might last a day or so in our heads, but the happiness we get from our passion will last us a lifetime.

So go out there and be confident and--as some famous person once said--just do it. Whatever “it” may be.