當(dāng)我還是個孩子的時候,曾以為豬排和空手道的手刀是一樣的東西。我以為它們都是豬排。而因為我祖母覺得那樣很可愛,而且因為它們是我的最愛,她讓我繼續(xù)那樣認(rèn)為。沒什么大不了的。
One day, before I realized fat kids are not designed to climb trees, I fell out of a tree and bruised the right side of my body. I didn't want to tell my grandmother about it, because I was scared I'd get in trouble for playing somewhere I shouldn't have been.
有天,在我了解到胖小孩不是設(shè)計來爬樹的之前,我從一棵樹上摔下,而且把我身體的右側(cè)給摔傷了。我不想告訴我的祖母,因為我害怕會因為到不該去的地方玩耍而陷入麻煩。
Few days later the gym teacher noticed the bruise, and I got sent to the principal's office. 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.
幾天后體育老師注意到了那瘀青,而我被送到校長辦公室。從那兒我被送往另一個小房間,有位和藹可親的女士問我各式各樣關(guān)于我家庭生活的問題。
I saw no reason to lie. As far as I was concerned, life was pretty good. I told her, "Whenever I'm sad, my grandmother gives me karate chops." This led to a full scale investigation. And I was removed from the house for three days, until they finally decided to ask how I got the bruises.
我沒理由需要騙人。對我來說,生活很美好。我告訴她:“每當(dāng)我難過的時候,我祖母會賞我空手道手刀。”這導(dǎo)致了一次全面性的調(diào)查。而我被趕出家門三天,直到他們最后決定問我怎么會搞得瘀青時為止。
News of the silly little story quickly spread through the school, and I earned my first nickname: Porkchop.
這愚蠢小故事的新聞很快地傳遍了校園,而我賺到了我第一個綽號:豬排。
To this day...I hate porkchops.
直到今天...我恨豬排。
I'm not the only kid who grew up this way. Surrounded by people who used to say that rhyme...about sticks and stones. As if a broken bones hurt more than the names we got called, and we got called them all.
我不是唯一這樣長大的孩子。被那些過去時常將...關(guān)于“棍棒和石頭”(注一)的順口溜掛在嘴上的人們給圍繞著。好像骨折比我們被取的綽號更傷人,而我們所有的綽號都被喊過。
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 tool shed.
所以我們長大時相信永遠(yuǎn)沒有人會愛上我們。我們會永遠(yuǎn)孤單。我們永遠(yuǎn)也不會遇見某個人,讓我們感覺像太陽是他們在工具間里為我們所打造出來的。
So broken heart strings bled the blues as we tried to empty ourselves so we would 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.
所以在我們試著放空自己以讓自己感受不到任何東西(免受傷害)時,斷了的心弦流出了憂慮的鮮血。別告訴我那比起骨折較無傷害;一個在體內(nèi)生長的生命(體內(nèi)異物)是外科醫(yī)生能夠切除的東西;不可能會轉(zhuǎn)移。它會的(霸凌傷害是會轉(zhuǎn)移的)。
She was eight years old. Our first day of grade three when she got called "ugly," we both got moved to the back of the class so we would stop getting bombarded by spitball. But the school halls were a battleground. We found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day.
她當(dāng)時八歲。我們?nèi)昙壍牡谝惶飚?dāng)她被喊作“丑八怪”時,我們倆都搬到教室的后面,這樣才會停止遭受紙球轟炸。但學(xué)校走廊是個戰(zhàn)場。愁云慘霧日復(fù)一日,我們發(fā)現(xiàn)自己寡不敵眾。
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."
我們過去時常躲在室內(nèi)喘息,因為外面更糟糕。在外面我們得練習(xí)逃開或是學(xué)著像雕像般靜止不動,不讓人發(fā)現(xiàn)我們在那兒。五年級的時候,他們在她書桌的前方貼上一個標(biāo)簽,上面寫著:“小心惡犬”。
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 of her face.
直到今天,盡管有個深愛著她的老公,她不認(rèn)為自己漂亮,因為一個占了她小半張臉的胎記。
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. He...
...was a broken branch grafted onto a different family tree, adopted. Not because his parents opted for a different destiny. He was three when he became a mixed drink of one part left alone and two parts tragedy. Started therapy in 8th grade. Had a personality made up of tests and pills. Lived like the uphills were mountains and the downhills were cliffs. Four fifths suicidal, a tidal wave of anti-depressants, and an adolescence of being called "Popper," one part because of the pills, ninety nine parts because of the cruelty.
孩子們過去常說她看起來像是一個某人欲擦拭而不能去之的錯誤答案。然而他們永遠(yuǎn)也不會了解她養(yǎng)育了兩個孩子,他們對美的界定源自于“母親”這個字。因為在看到她的皮膚之前,他們先看到她的心。因為她永遠(yuǎn)是令人驚羨的。他...
He tried to kill himself in grade ten when a kid who could still go home to mom and dad, had the audacity to tell him, "get over it." As if depression is something that can be remedied by any of the contents found in a first aid kit.
...是根斷了的樹枝,被嫁接到一棵不同家庭樹上,被領(lǐng)養(yǎng)了的。并非因為他父母親選擇了一條截然不同的命運。當(dāng)他成了杯一分孤寂摻雜著兩分悲劇的調(diào)酒時,他才三歲。八年級(國二)時開始治療。有著由測試和藥物所造成的個性。過著仿佛向上是高山峻嶺,往下是懸崖峭壁的生活。五分之四是自我毀滅的,波濤海嘯的抗憂慮藥物,一段被叫做“藥罐子”的青少年時期,一分是因為那些藥物,九十九分因為那惡毒殘酷(的言語)。
To this day, he is a stick of TNT lit from both ends, could describe to you in detail the way the sky bends in the moments before it's about to fall, and despite an army of friends who all call him an inspiration, he remains a conversation piece between people who can't understand sometimes being drug free has less to do with addiction and more to do with sanity.
他在十年級(國三)時嘗試自殺,那時有一個仍然能夠回家到父母身邊的孩子,厚顏無恥的跟他說:“撐過去吧。”好像憂慮是某種可以用任何急救箱中找到的東西給治療好的事情。
We weren't the only kids who grew up this way.
直到今天,他是根兩頭點燃的TNT炸彈,可以對你詳述暴雨欲降之際,天幕低垂的狀況,而盡管一堆朋友都稱他為鼓舞人心的靈感,他仍是人們間的話題,他們不了解有時候不碰毒品和上癮較無關(guān)系,而是尤有關(guān)于精神健全。
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 the background noise of a soundtrack stuck on repeat when people say things like "kids can be cruel?"
我們不是唯一這樣長大的孩子們。
Every school was a big top circus tent, and the pecking order went from acrobats to lion tamers, from clowns to carnies. All of these were miles ahead of who we were...we were freaks!
直到今天,孩子們?nèi)员粸E喊綽號。經(jīng)典的幾個是“嘿,笨蛋!”“嘿,蠢蛋!”好像每所學(xué)校都有一脫拉庫的綽號每年在更新。如果一個孩子在學(xué)校里崩潰了,而附近沒有人愿意聆聽,他們有被聽見嗎?當(dāng)人們說像是“孩子們也可以是殘酷無情的”之類的事情的時候,他們只是卡在重復(fù)播放上的音軌的背景雜音嗎?
Lobster claw boys and bearded ladies, oddities, juggling depression and loneliness, playing Solitaire, spin the bottle, trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal. But at night, while the others slept, we kept walking the tightrope. It was practice, and yeah, some of us fell. But I want to tell them that all of this is just debris, leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought we used to be.
每間學(xué)校都是個大馬戲團帳篷,而階級順序是從特技演員到馴獅員,從丑角到巡迴藝人。這些和我們的身分差了十萬八千里...我們是怪咖!
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.
龍蝦手(裂手裂足癥)男孩和長滿胡須的女孩、怪人們,耍憂慮、耍孤單,玩著接龍(一種單人紙牌游戲)、轉(zhuǎn)瓶子游戲,試著撫平我們自己的傷口并痊癒。但在夜里,當(dāng)其他人睡去,我們繼續(xù)走鋼索。那是練習(xí),對的,我們有些人跌了下去。但我要告訴他們所有這些只是破瓦殘礫,當(dāng)我們最終決定要粉碎所有過去對自我的認(rèn)知的時候。
You built a cast around your broken heart and signed it yourself. You signed it, "they were wrong." Because maybe you didn't belong to a group or clique. Maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball or everything. Maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth to show and tell but never told, because how can you hold your ground if everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it? You have to believe that they were wrong.
而如果你無法看見任何關(guān)于自己美麗的事物,找面好一點的鏡子??拷稽c看。注視久一些。因為在你體內(nèi)有某種東西使你繼續(xù)嘗試,不顧每個叫你退出的人。
They have to be wrong. Why else would we still be here?
你圍繞著破碎的心打上了石膏并親自簽名。你簽上:“他們錯了。”因為也許你并不屬于一個團體或派系。也許他們決定打籃球或任何事情都最后選你。也許你過去常常帶著瘀青和斷牙到展示討論課上卻從未開口,因為如果身邊的每個人都想將你掩埋,你要如何堅持住?你得相信他們錯了。
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.
他們一定得是錯的。不然的話為何我們還在這里?
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. 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.
我們成長時學(xué)著大聲鼓勵失敗者,因為我們從他們身上看見自己。我們源自一個根深蒂固的信念,那就是我們并非我們所被喊的(綽號)。我們不是被遺棄的車輛漸漸拋錨、被空置在某條高速公路邊。而如果不知怎地我們偏偏就是的話,別擔(dān)心。我們只是出去走走買汽油吧。
我們是“我們做到了”班級的畢業(yè)成員,不是那漸漸消逝的回音,嘶喊著“綽號永遠(yuǎn)傷不了我”。當(dāng)然,它們傷害了我。但我們的生命將永遠(yuǎn)只會繼續(xù)成為一項艱鉅的任務(wù),較無關(guān)于痛苦...而更關(guān)乎于美。