MEMOIRS

4:34 AM Pia San Felipe 0 Comments

Harry Potter, the boy who lived. I guess I can compare myself to the infamous teenage wizard for I, too, have a scar and I lived. Though my scar isn't on my forehead and was not caused by an unforgivable curse; it, the scar, is on my right cheek and it's because I used to have a birthmark but you can consider the jeerings and teasing that were thrown at me as the curse. No, I'm not going to tell you of how this scar came to be because it's pretty base (birthmark, skin graft operation, scar yet to be healed) and it's not my point. What I'm telling you is how I came to live with and through it all.

My mom finds me strong, someone who can bear pain, be it physical or mental (though I don't think I have experienced mental pain but if other people's prejudiced judgment counts then I may have had experienced it) and I guess I really was. Growing up with a birthmark right on your face is weird, and having to go through everyday with it is not easy. But I managed to live with it, I guess as a kid I really didn't mind and I think my classmates didn't too. Maybe because we were all brought up pretty well and were still too young and innocent to judge. Growing up, I've had my share of being bullied but not to the point that I'd get beaten up or have my lunch stolen. I got teased, being told that I have a "black eye" and being given that look of disgust that explicitly says, "what is that icky thing on her face?". It did affect me but I just let the comments and looks pass by. I grew up and my parents decided for me to go through an operation to have my growing (I mean it literally) birthmark removed. It was scary but there's nothing I can do, I figured that it was the only way that other people would stop judging me. The operation and the birthmark left traces, the scar that is, but at least it doesn't look as weird (or hideous) and it was much bearable to them prejudiced people. I still get the looks and I admit that I look weird. I'm not pretty and there's really nothing in me that I can boast of. I mean, I'm short, I have frizzy hair, I have braces (though just recently), I wear eyeglasses (450/450), my legs are fat, my skin's not fair, I have no amazing talent to speak of, I'm basically base. Not stunning, not gorgeous, not smart (like smart smart), not tall, not beautiful, not talented (enough), not anything. But guess what? I'm still alive and breathing, and in college (!!!).

Being in college is a challenge because I am to meet a lot more people who's going to judge me (and in a wrong way for sure) but as I grew up I realized, they don't matter. Their words, what they had to say, it can't bring me down, it's not supposed to bring me down and it won't bring me down. No matter how ugly I am, I should still walk with my head held high because I can pretty much be more successful than those looking at me with the wrong eye. Why did I share this? I realized this is my blog and I should get real, let my readers (if there is any) know who I am, I mean, who I am behind the screen, the blog. And this is me, I am a girl who lived with wrong judgments and prejudiced people and still managed to get through all of it. I guess I'm slowly learning how to embrace my flaws and be contented with how I look. My scar may not be a pretty sight to look at but as long as I have it, I guess I'd take it as a sign that I'm still fighting. Besides, it makes me easier to remember and to find.

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