Looking back at me...
The bruises on my skin paint an ugly picture. A picture of hurt, fear and abuse. The person looking back at me in the mirror is one who is defeated and tired. Helplessness is evident in their eyes, desperation present in every movement. An urge to run that cannot be fulfilled. As I turn, something catches my eye. The cross, hanging on the wall, the man strung up, too a victim. It is then I remember that mass that occurred not that long ago. “Everyone is equal, and deserves to be treated as such.” The murmurs of agreement still hit me now. I can remember the priest looking at me as he said it. The message communicating something more than ever intended. My eyes meet the eyes in the mirror and they are met by something new. Hope is flickering in their depths. I re-evaluate the image, finding scars and bruises not as an ugly prison but medals of bravery. Bravery that is coursing through me right now. No more will I be treated less than I am, a human. I will leave this lesson with dignity and will. I will be a beacon of hope not only for myself, but those similar to me.