Identity

Part 1.

The years leading up to college, I had been a no one, a nerd, a teachers pet, an every-name-in-the-book kinda girl. People picked on me for my clothes, apparently I looked like a cross of a drug addicted kindergarten teacher and a homeless rat. My hair, because apparently having my hair in a bun everyday, wait I'm sorry, having my birds nest in a bun everyday wasn't good enough for high school.  My glasses, yes they were taped, yes that's a cliche, yes it drove me crazy, no we didn't have money for new ones, I've had these ones for 4 years. They hated everything about me, and slowly their daily hatred rubbed off on me. It made me hate myself. To the point of self harm... self hate... self mutilation....

It's been about 6 weeks since graduation, I knew that when my name was called and I'd have to walk up in front of all my tormentors it'd be hell but I didn't expect it to be as bad as it was. They had their cameras out, they took pictures of me and posted them with the caption "Crack Head Kindergarten Teacher" and other terrible names.. I hated everything about high school, and everything about myself.

I leave for university tomorrow, I received a generous scholarship, a full ride academic scholarship which everything was paid for, from my room, to my textbooks, food and train cards. The only condition, maintaining a 3.8 or higher GPA. Easy, I graduated high school with a 4.78.

I was in a towel, looking at myself in the mirror. My dark hair was long, down to the top of my butt. Now that I think about it...I could see why it looked so messy, I hadn't had a hair cut in years.. I had so many split ends, so many dead strands... My face was round, but not chubby, my cheek bones were high and my jaw was defined, I guess my skinny face did resemble someone on drugs...My eyes were an emerald green and my nose was regular sized, maybe a little small, my lips were pretty full, and my eyebrows were softly curved, I knew I was always the ugly one, in class pictures I'd try to hide my face, look away, close my eyes etc... My collarbones did show naturally, I was pretty petite, again, drug addict like, I didn't eat much though. Both of my parents were alcoholics and drug users so we never had food in the house I'd normally just eat what the school had and that's it...I had size D breasts like my mom. I'd wear large shirts to try and hide them, I didn't like how men would look at them if they weren't hidden. My stomach was flat, and my ribs stuck out a little. I had some pudge when I sat down or wore things too tight, that's normal right? My legs were long and slim, chicken legs if you would. My butt was average size, not big, not small, just there. I continued to examine myself in the mirror..I pulled the towel up a little revealing my upper thighs... and the scars of my youth... 12, 13, 14. There was about 15 deep cuts on each leg. All that have healed physically but never mentally. I could never wear shorts or bikinis, I could never show these scars.

There's gotta be more than just this... I can't spend my whole life in the shadows or in target sights for abuse. Somethings gotta give. I don't want to be this person anymore. I don't want to live as Rosanna if this is who Id always be. Why cant I look like the girls in the magazines, the pretty ones, the ones with the bright eyes and pretty smiles, the ones who picked on me, and tortured me in high school. Why can't I be someone completely else....

And in that moment it hit me...I knew what I needed to do...