当我还是小孩子的时候，我把自己的心藏在床底下，因为我的妈妈告诉我，“你要是不小心保管，終有一天有人会摧毀它。”听我说，床底下并不是藏东西的好地方，我很清楚因为每当我想要站起来，自强不息的时候都会因为“高原反应”而被一次次打倒在地。但这就是别人教我们的：“人要自强不息。”如果你没有明确的定位，你很难做到自强不息。我们还很小的时候就被要求明确自己, 界定自我，如果我们做不到，别人就会代劳。“怪胎”。“死胖子”。“荡妇”。“娘炮”。

　　So we grew up believing no one would ever fall in love with us, that we'd be lonely forever, that we'd never meet someone to make us feel like the sun was something they built for us in their toolshed. So broken heartstrings bled the blues, and we tried to empty ourselves so we'd feel nothing. Don't tell me that hurts less than a broken bone, that an ingrown life is something surgeons can cut away, that there's no way for it to metastasize; it does.

　　所以我们长大后，觉得没有人会爱上我们，我们注定孤独一辈子，我们永远不会遇到一份独一无二的爱，就像有人在会在工具间里为我们打造专属的太阳。我们破碎的心里流淌着忧伤，想要麻木自己感不到疼痛。不要跟我说内心的伤痛比不上骨折的痛苦，不要跟我说内在的痛苦可以通过外科手术切除，不要跟我说这痛苦不会蔓延；它会。

　　2. She was eight years old, our first day of grade three when she got called ugly. We both got moved to the back of class so we would stop getting bombarded by spitballs. But the school halls were a battleground. We found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day. We used to stay inside for recess, because outside was worse. Outside, we'd have to rehearse running away, or learn to stay still like statues, giving no clues that we were there. In grade five, they taped a sign to the front of her desk that read, "Beware of dog."

　　她8岁。升到三年级的第一天便有人唤她丑。我俩都搬到了教室后排，这样就不会老是被人丢纸团了。但是学校的走廊还是跟战场一样。我们寡不敌众，每天都被人欺负。我们常常躲在学校，因为外面的环境更糟。在外面，我们需要时刻准备做着逃跑的准备，或者像雕塑一样一动不动，不让人注意到。五年级的时候，他们在她的课桌前贴了一张纸，上面写着，“注意，狗出没。”

　　To this day, despite a loving husband, she doesn't think she's beautiful, because of a birthmark that takes up a little less than half her face. Kids used to say, "She looks like a wrong answer that someone tried to erase, but couldn't quite get the job done." And they'll never understand that she's raising two kids whose definition of beauty begins with the word "Mom," because they see her heart before they see her skin, because she's only ever always been amazing.

　　时至今日，即使她有深爱她的丈夫，她都无法发现自己的美，因为她的脸上，一块胎记几乎布满它半边脸。小伙伴们总说，“她的脸就像是一个错误答案，总被人用橡皮擦来擦去，却总是擦不干净。”他们永远的无法理解，她抚养的两个孩子将身为母亲的她视为美的化身。 因为她的孩子先看到了她的内心，然后才是她的皮肤，只有她的内心一直保持着如此的迷人。

　　We weren't the only kids who grew up this way. To this day, kids are still being called names. The classics were "Hey, stupid," "Hey, spaz." Seems like every school has an arsenal of names getting updated every year. And if a kid breaks in a school and no one around chooses to hear, do they make a sound? Are they just background noise from a soundtrack stuck on repeat, when people say things like, "Kids can be cruel."

　　像我们这样成长起来的孩子还有很多。时至今日，有的孩子还在被人取侮辱的外号。比如，“笨蛋”，“怪胎”。似乎每个学校里面都有一个弹药库存储这些外号，一年一年的更新换代， 如果学校里一个孩子受了伤却没人愿意理他，他们会为自己发声么？还是说他们就像录音磁带背景杂音，而人们只是说着“孩子也会很坏”这样的话？

　　3. (A long pause) But I want to tell them that all of this is just debris left over when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought we used to be, and if you can't see anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror, look a little closer, stare a little longer, because there's something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit. You built a cast around your broken heart and signed it yourself, "They were wrong." Because maybe you didn't belong to a group or a clique. Maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball or everything. You have to believe that they were wrong. They have to be wrong. Why else would we still be here?

　　但是我想要告诉他们，当我们决定跟过去的自己决裂，开始全新的自己，这些经历不过是我们抛弃的废墟，如果你无法看到自己的美，换个更好的镜子，凑得更近一点，看得更久一点， 因为你的内心深处有个声音一直告诉你坚持下去，尽管全世界的人都叫你放弃。你要在受伤的心周围筑起一道铜墙铁壁，并亲手写上：“他们是错的。”或许因为你不被任何一个小团体接纳。或许他们只是找不到人玩的时候才拉上你。你不得不相信他们是错的。他们必须是错的。不然我们为何存在？

　　We grew up learning to cheer on the underdog because we see ourselves in them. We stem from a root planted in the belief that we are not what we were called. We are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting empty on some highway, and if in some way we are, don't worry. We only got out to walk and get gas. We are graduating members from the class of We Made It, not the faded echoes of voices crying out, "Names will never hurt me." Of course they did.

　　我们在成长的过程中，学着去弱者喝彩，因为我们在他们中看到了自己。我们破茧而出,深信我们并不像那些强加给我们的外号一样不堪。这是我们得以成长的信念。我们并不是高速路边被抛弃的破旧车辆，即使有些相似，也没有关系。我们只需要一些汽油，就能开起来。 我们是“我能做到”课程的毕业生，而不是反复的骗自己，大喊“我永远不会被这些侮辱的外号所伤”之后的回音，它们当然会伤害你。

　　But our lives will only ever always continue to be a balancing act that has less to do with pain and more to do with beauty.

　　但是我们的生活本来就是如此，不断在喜怒哀乐之间平衡反复，更少的回味痛苦，体验更多的美。