#PartnerTrack

  My mom was addicted to love and was in and out of toxic relationships. I had very little stability as a child. Most of the time I would have about an hour to get my belongings out of whatever motel we made home that week. The knot in my stomach was the only thing I could count on in the first grade. I had been too 4 different schools that year, each school in a different town. To make matters worse, that year I noticed my skin change. I thought it was a rash and it would go away in time, I was wrong.  That year my tan complexion started changing into a pair of 1970's acid washed jeans. Vitiligo is an immune disease that causes your skin to lose pigmentation. it becomes very light in some areas, and not in others. There is no cure, and no way to prevent the change.               

 As 1st grade came and went, so did I. I met a few kids, and all of them asked me the same questions. "what's that on your skin?" "Are you contagious?" Each question was a reminder of how obvious my condition was. I felt insecure and reluctant to talk, but I knew I'd be leaving soon and wouldn't have to deal with it for much longer anyways. I remember feeling lonely most of my childhood. Each move was a new school, new town, and new classroom to ask me about my vitiligo. I had no time for the kids at school get to know who I was on the inside. The years following 1st grade I moved so much that most my school days were spent with kids staring at me. They wanted to ask me about my skin, but luckily, I left before they had the chance. 

       In 5th grade things started to look up. I was at my school for almost a full year, and I finally made a really good impression. I became the class clown, and I realized that comedy and laughing felt so much better than shame and embarrassment. I was finally able to call people out by their name, and they knew mine. Then one day my mom said "pack it up we need to leave" I told my friends and promised to keep in touch. As I hugged them, I was sad but held it together because I had too. I wrote their numbers on a dollar bill. Once we got to the motel, I decided to call my friends. I looked everywhere and there was no dollar. I knew I put it away, I would never lose it. My mom realized what I was looking for. " Are you looking for the dollar I used for gas in Colorado?" I didn't respond, what could I do it was too late. I knew my friends would soon forget me, but I would never forget my friends, the friends who had time to get to know more than my vitiligo.