what happened to your face? why are there so many spots on it?
what happened is there was an imperfection and i wanted it gone so badly i forgot how to think. i know things don’t get better overnight, i know these things. i know it won’t get better but i tried anyway. so came the spot and so came the sigh of frustration.
go put some medicine on it, do you really not care?
i have been using the medicine nonstop for the past three weeks and it has done nothing. it has only taken you this long to notice.
you are so ugly, you’ve got to get rid of those spots, you’re so unattractive what boy will marry you what are you thinking?
i am thinking, i do not want to be married. i am thinking, i was not beautiful even before my face was marred: what will you do about it? i am thinking, i am so much more than my face. underneath my skin, my witch nose and my scarred forehead and ugly cheeks, there is a miracle.
you are so imperfect, terrible child—
you made this terrible child. i didn’t ask for you to forget the parts of me that are made of wonder. you made me. the mark of a true creator is knowing the flaws of what it has made, knowing it is not perfect, accepting. the nose is a little slanted, the skin is uneven the teeth are not white, it is okay.
my expression is not beautiful but my hands are. my face is not beautiful but my words are.
you have to hold a baby someday. you have a future.
my hands will hold freedom, not babies. i have a future and it is mine.
my hands will make miracles someday. mark my words.
—mark my words, i am a miracle.