I thought that they were both pork chops. 我以为它们都是猪排。

And because my grandmother thought that was cute, and because they were my favorite, 而因为我祖母觉得那样很可爱，而且因为它们是我的最爱，

she let me keep doing that. Not really a big deal. 她让我继续那样认为。没什么大不了的。

One day, before I realized fat kids are not designed to climb trees, 有天，在我了解到胖小孩不是设计来爬树的之前，

I fell out of a tree and bruised the right side of my body. 我从一棵树上摔下，而且把我身体的右侧给摔伤了。

I didn't want to tell my grandmother about it, 我不想告诉我的祖母，

because I was scared I'd get in trouble for playing somewhere I shouldn't have been. 因为我害怕会因为到不该去的地方玩耍而陷入麻烦。

Few days later the gym teacher noticed the bruise, and I got sent to the principal's office. 几天后体育老师注意到了那瘀青，而我被送到校长办公室。

From there I was sent to another small room with a really nice lady who asked me all kinds of questions about my life at home. 从那儿我被送往另一个小房间，有位和蔼可亲的女士问我各式各样关于我家庭生活的问题。

I saw no reason to lie. As far as I was concerned, life was pretty good. 我没理由需要骗人。对我来说，生活很美好。

I told her, "Whenever I'm sad, my grandmother gives me karate chops." 我告诉她：“每当我难过的时候，我祖母会赏我空手道手刀。”

This led to a full scale investigation. 这导致了一次全面性的调查。

And I was removed from the house for three days, until they finally decided to ask how I got the bruises. 而我被赶出家门三天，直到他们最后决定问我怎么会搞得瘀青时为止。

News of the silly little story quickly spread through the school, 这愚蠢小故事的新闻很快地传遍了校园，

and I earned my first nickname: Porkchop. 而我赚到了我第一个绰号：猪排。

To this day...I hate porkchops. 直到今天...我恨猪排。

I'm not the only kid who grew up this way. 我不是唯一这样长大的孩子。

Surrounded by people who used to say that rhyme...about sticks and stones. 被那些过去时常将...关于“棍棒和石头”的顺口溜挂在嘴上的人们给围绕着。

As if a broken bones hurt more than the names we got called, and we got called them all. 好像骨折比我们被取的绰号更伤人，而我们所有的绰号都被喊过。

So we grew up believing no one would ever fall in love with us. 所以我们长大时相信永远没有人会爱上我们。

That we'd be lonely forever. 我们会永远孤单。

That we'd never meet someone to make us feel like the sun was something they built for us in their tool shed. 我们永远也不会遇见某个人，让我们感觉像太阳是他们在工具间里为我们所打造出来的。

So broken heart strings bled the blues as we tried to empty ourselves so we would feel nothing. 所以在我们试着放空自己以让自己感受不到任何东西(免受伤害)时，断了的心弦流出了忧虑的鲜血。

Don't tell me that hurts less than a broken bone; 别告诉我那比起骨折较无伤害；

that an ingrown life is something surgeons can cut away; 一个在体内生长的生命(体内异物)是外科医生能够切除的东西；

that there's no way for it to metastasize. It does. 不可能会转移。它会的(霸凌伤害是会转移的)。

She was eight years old. 她当时八岁。

Our first day of grade three when she got called "ugly," 我们三年级的第一天当她被喊作“丑八怪”时，

we both got moved to the back of the class so we would stop getting bombarded by spitball. 我们俩都搬到教室的后面，这样才会停止遭受纸球轰炸。

But the school halls were a battleground. 但学校走廊是个战场。

We found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day. 愁云惨雾日复一日，我们发现自己寡不敌众。

We used to stay inside for recess, because outside was worse. 我们过去时常躲在室内喘息，因为外面更糟糕。

Outside we'd have to rehearse running away or learn to stay still like statues giving no clues that we were there. 在外面我们得练习逃开或是学着像雕像般静止不动，不让人发现我们在那儿。

In grade five, they taped a sign to the front of her desk that read, "BEWARE OF DOG." 五年级的时候，他们在她书桌的前方贴上一个标签，上面写着：“小心恶犬”。

To this day, despite a loving husband, she doesn't think she's beautiful, 直到今天，尽管有个深爱着她的老公，她不认为自己漂亮，

because of a birthmark that takes up a little less than half of her face. 因为一个占了她小半张脸的胎记。

Kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer that someone tried to erase but couldn't quite get the job done. 孩子们过去常说她看起来像是一个某人欲擦拭而不能去之的错误答案。

And they'll never understand that she's raising two kids whose definition of beauty begins with the word "Mom." 然而他们永远也不会了解她养育了两个孩子，他们对美的界定源自于“母亲”这个字。

Because they see her heart before they see her skin. 因为在看到她的皮肤之前，他们先看到她的心。

Because she's only ever always been amazing. He... 因为她永远是令人惊羡的。他...

...was a broken branch grafted onto a different family tree, adopted. ...是根断了的树枝，被嫁接到一棵不同家庭树上，被领养了的。

Not because his parents opted for a different destiny. 并非因为他父母亲选择了一条截然不同的命运。

He was three when he became a mixed drink of one part left alone and two parts tragedy. 当他成了杯一分孤寂掺杂着两分悲剧的调酒时，他才三岁。

Started therapy in 8th grade. Had a personality made up of tests and pills. 八年级(国二)时开始治疗。有着由测试和药物所造成的个性。

Lived like the uphills were mountains and the downhills were cliffs. 过着仿佛向上是高山峻岭，往下是悬崖峭壁的生活。

Four fifths suicidal, a tidal wave of anti-depressants, and an adolescence of being called "Popper," 五分之四是自我毁灭的，波涛海啸的抗忧虑药物，一段被叫做“药罐子”的青少年时期，

one part because of the pills, ninety nine parts because of the cruelty. 一分是因为那些药物，九十九分因为那恶毒残酷(的言语)。

He tried to kill himself in grade ten when a kid who could still go home to mom and dad, 他在十年级(国三)时尝试自杀，那时有一个仍然能够回家到父母身边的孩子，

had the audacity to tell him, "get over it." 厚颜无耻的跟他说：“撑过去吧。”

As if depression is something that can be remedied by any of the contents found in a first aid kit. 好像忧虑是某种可以用任何急救箱中找到的东西给治疗好的事情。

To this day, he is a stick of TNT lit from both ends, 直到今天，他是根两头点燃的TNT炸弹，

could describe to you in detail the way the sky bends in the moments before it's about to fall, 可以对你详述暴雨欲降之际，天幕低垂的状况，

and despite an army of friends who all call him an inspiration, 而尽管一堆朋友都称他为鼓舞人心的灵感，

he remains a conversation piece between people who can't understand sometimes being drug free has less to do with addiction 他仍是人们间的话题，他们不了解有时候不碰毒品和上瘾较无关系，

and more to do with sanity. 而是尤有关于精神健全。

We weren't the only kids who grew up this way. 我们不是唯一这样长大的孩子们。

To this day, kids are still being called names. The classics were "Hey, stupid!" "Hey, spaz!" 直到今天，孩子们仍被滥喊绰号。经典的几个是“嘿，笨蛋!”“嘿，蠢蛋!”

Seems like every school has an arsenal of names getting updated every year. 好像每所学校都有一脱拉库的绰号每年在更新。

And if a kid breaks in a school, and no one around chooses to hear, do they make a sound? 如果一个孩子在学校里崩溃了，而附近没有人愿意聆听，他们有被听见吗？

Are they just the background noise of a soundtrack stuck on repeat when people say things like "kids can be cruel?" 当人们说像是“孩子们也可以是残酷无情的”之类的事情的时候，他们只是卡在重复播放上的音轨的背景杂音吗？

Every school was a big top circus tent, and the pecking order went from acrobats to lion tamers, from clowns to carnies. 每间学校都是个大马戏团帐篷，而阶级顺序是从特技演员到驯狮员，从丑角到巡迴艺人。

All of these were miles ahead of who we were...we were freaks! 这些和我们的身分差了十万八千里...我们是怪咖!

Lobster claw boys and bearded ladies, oddities, juggling depression and loneliness, 龙虾手(裂手裂足症)男孩和长满胡须的女孩、怪人们，耍忧虑、耍孤单，

playing Solitaire, spin the bottle, trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal. 玩着接龙(一种单人纸牌游戏)、转瓶子游戏，试着抚平我们自己的伤口并痊癒。

But at night, while the others slept, we kept walking the tightrope. 但在夜里，当其他人睡去，我们继续走钢索。

It was practice, and yeah, some of us fell. 那是练习，对的，我们有些人跌了下去。

But I want to tell them that all of this is just debris, 但我要告诉他们所有这些只是破瓦残砾，

leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought we used to be. 当我们最终决定要粉碎所有过去对自我的认知的时候。

And if you can't see anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror. 而如果你无法看见任何关于自己美丽的事物，找面好一点的镜子。

Look a little closer. Stare a little longer. 靠近一点看。注视久一些。

Because there's something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit. 因为在你体内有某种东西使你继续尝试，不顾每个叫你退出的人。

You built a cast around your broken heart and signed it yourself. 你围绕着破碎的心打上了石膏并亲自签名。

You signed it, "they were wrong." Because maybe you didn't belong to a group or clique. 你签上：“他们错了。”因为也许你并不属于一个团体或派系。

Maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball or everything. 也许他们决定打篮球或任何事情都最后选你。

Maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth to show and tell but never told, 也许你过去常常带着瘀青和断牙到展示讨论课上却从未开口，

because how can you hold your ground if everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it? 因为如果身边的每个人都想将你掩埋，你要如何坚持住？

You have to believe that they were wrong. 你得相信他们错了。

They have to be wrong. Why else would we still be here? 他们一定得是错的。不然的话为何我们还在这里？

We grew up learning to cheer on the underdog because we see ourselves in them. 我们成长时学着大声鼓励失败者，因为我们从他们身上看见自己。

We stem from a root planted in the belief that we are not what we were called. 我们源自一个根深蒂固的信念，那就是我们并非我们所被喊的(绰号)。

We are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting empty on some highway. 我们不是被遗弃的车辆渐渐抛锚、被空置在某条高速公路边。

And if in some way we are, don't worry. We only got out to walk and get gas. 而如果不知怎地我们偏偏就是的话，别担心。我们只是出去走走买汽油吧。

We are graduating members from the class of "we made it," 我们是“我们做到了”班级的毕业成员，

not the faded echoes of voices crying out "names will never hurt me." 不是那渐渐消逝的回音，嘶喊着“绰号永远伤不了我”。

Of course, they did. 当然，它们伤害了我。

But our lives will only ever always continue to be a balancing act that has less to do with pain... 但我们的生命将永远只会继续成为一项艰巨的任务，较无关于痛苦...

and more to do with beauty. 而更关乎于美。