"When I first felt hatredfor myself, I was 11 years old.It was two weeks beforestarting middle..."

“When I first felt hatred

for myself, I was 11 years old.

It was two weeks before

starting middle school

and I would enter adolescence

with self-doubt and fresh

wounds on the surface

of my premature skin.

As it goes with every new

sudden feeling, I felt alone

in the journey that was

set before me. I’m 21 years

old now and all of those

open wounds have healed

and have become small stories

on my body. Tales that I would

go on to repeat to any newcomer

that recognized scar tissue

in places that could only be

self-inflected. Since then,

looking back on those 10 years

of searching for myself

with the help of sharp objects

that had no say in what might

be best, I have taken those

throbbing experiences

and have turned them into

hope for new wanderers

who may have crossed

the path of darkness before

reaching the field of light.

Still, I look down at my limbs

and see the weakness hiding

beneath new tissue. I can

still hear it calling to me

to open them up one more time.

I cover up my wrists

with my armor and look ahead

to my path, to my not yet

completed journey.

The first time I felt the richness

of self-doubt was when I was

11 years old. Barley old enough

to see the outcome of what

my hands were truly capable of.

10 years of solitude

masked with bandaids

and bracelets and now my skin

is finally able to breathe.

Now I can see that what I was

trying to destroy all along

would be the only thing

that served as my protective

shield. Now I can stretch

my arms outward and show

my once so powerful

self-doubt that it no longer

will be able to reach me.”

- "My victory lives beneath my skin," - Colleen Brown