Scars are like falling snowflakes;
Not one is the same as another.
They each have their own fantastic pattern.
They tell the story of the past.

The small bumps hidden behind my glasses
remind me of the dark hospital room
the tears rolling off my parents’ faces
Finding out a daughter needs emergency surgery
must feel like a sudden loss of air.
Experiencing the hammer-to-nail pain in my head
caused no bravery during this time.
They told me not to cry
but I couldn’t help it.

Growing up I was always asked questions.
Sometimes it got annoying
Sometimes it was interesting to respond in a different way.
“What’s on your face?”
   “It’s just really messed up blush.”
“Did your brother punch you?”
   “Yeah you should see what he looks like.”
“How did you get that?”
   “I was born with it. It is called a BIRTHmark.”
Other people would say,
“It looks like a giraffe!”
“No, it looks like a bird!”
After each of the 6 surgeries I had.
I thought it just looked like a blob.
It’s interesting.
I’ve said numerous times that I want it gone more.
People say,
“You wouldn’t be you without it.”
Yet when I cover it up with makeup,
no one notices.

In seventh grade, my school closed down.
It housed an incredible family and fantastic friendships.
It took me a while to feel better about it
But my spirit was lifted when I found a new school to go to
for my last year as a middle schooler.
Little did I know that this St. Mary’s look-a-like was not what it seemed.
I realized this when I climbed into the car after the first day crying.
The kids hated me already.
No one made an effort to be my friend.
I managed to make a couple friends
but with the end-of-the-year chaos,
I felt completely alone.
The kids would say,
“They shouldn't be in our memories because they were only here for one year” and
“You're not making your confirmation? You’re going to hell.”
It hurt.
I didn’t think I would ever have to feel like that.
But I eventually got over it and was determined to make high school better than the past two years.

The scar on my eye,
gives me a good story to tell.
My birthmark,
paints a unique image in the middle of my cheek
These terrible kids,
gave me my sarcastic attitude.

I’m glad I went through what I did.
My scars are stories etched in my skin
like the unique carvings on my fingertips
I can’t get rid of them.
But it’s ok,
it’s who I am.