1. When I was a kid, I hid my heart under the bed, because my mother said, "If you're not careful, someday someone's going to break it." Take it from me: Under the bed is not a good hiding spot. I know because I've been shot down so many times, I get altitude sickness just from standing up for myself. But that's what we were told. "Stand up for yourself." And that's hard to do if you don't know who you are. We were expected to define ourselves at such an early age, and if we didn't do it, others did it for us. Geek. Fatty. Slut. Fag.
當我還是小孩子的時候，我把自己的心藏在床底下，因為我的媽媽告訴我，“你要是不小心保管，終有一天有人會摧毀它。”聽我說，床底下并不是藏東西的好地方，我很清楚因為每當我想要站起來，自強不息的時候都會因為“高原反應”而被一次次打倒在地。但這就是別人教我們的：“人要自強不息。”如果你沒有明確的定位，你很難做到自強不息。我們還很小的時候就被要求明確自己, 界定自我，如果我們做不到，別人就會代勞。“怪胎”。“死胖子”。“蕩婦”。“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.
所以我們長大后，覺得沒有人會愛上我們，我們注定孤獨一輩子，我們永遠不會遇到一份獨一無二的愛，就像有人在會在工具間里為我們打造專屬的太陽。我們破碎的心里流淌著憂傷，想要麻木自己感不到疼痛。不要跟我說內心的傷痛比不上骨折的痛苦，不要跟我說內在的痛苦可以通過外科手術切除，不要跟我說這痛苦不會蔓延；它會。

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歲。升到三年級的第一天便有人喚她丑。我倆都搬到了教室后排，這樣就不會老是被人丟紙團了。但是學校的走廊還是跟戰場一樣。我們寡不敵眾，每天都被人欺負。我們常常躲在學校，因為外面的環境更糟。在外面，我們需要時刻準備做著逃跑的準備，或者像雕塑一樣一動不動，不讓人注意到。五年級的時候，他們在她的課桌前貼了一張紙，上面寫著，“注意，狗出沒。”
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.
時至今日，即使她有深愛她的丈夫，她都無法發現自己的美，因為她的臉上，一塊胎記幾乎布滿它半邊臉。小伙伴們總說，“她的臉就像是一個錯誤答案，總被人用橡皮擦來擦去，卻總是擦不干凈。”他們永遠的無法理解，她撫養的兩個孩子將身為母親的她視為美的化身。 因為她的孩子先看到了她的內心，然后才是她的皮膚，只有她的內心一直保持著如此的迷人。
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."
像我們這樣成長起來的孩子還有很多。時至今日，有的孩子還在被人取侮辱的外號。比如，“笨蛋”，“怪胎”。似乎每個學校里面都有一個彈藥庫存儲這些外號，一年一年的更新換代， 如果學校里一個孩子受了傷卻沒人愿意理他，他們會為自己發聲么？還是說他們就像錄音磁帶背景雜音，而人們只是說著“孩子也會很壞”這樣的話？
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?
但是我想要告訴他們，當我們決定跟過去的自己決裂，開始全新的自己，這些經歷不過是我們拋棄的廢墟，如果你無法看到自己的美，換個更好的鏡子，湊得更近一點，看得更久一點， 因為你的內心深處有個聲音一直告訴你堅持下去，盡管全世界的人都叫你放棄。你要在受傷的心周圍筑起一道銅墻鐵壁，并親手寫上：“他們是錯的。”或許因為你不被任何一個小團體接納。或許他們只是找不到人玩的時候才拉上你。你不得不相信他們是錯的。他們必須是錯的。不然我們為何存在？
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.
我們在成長的過程中，學著去弱者喝彩，因為我們在他們中看到了自己。我們破繭而出,深信我們并不像那些強加給我們的外號一樣不堪。這是我們得以成長的信念。我們并不是高速路邊被拋棄的破舊車輛，即使有些相似，也沒有關系。我們只需要一些汽油，就能開起來。 我們是“我能做到”課程的畢業生，而不是反復的騙自己，大喊“我永遠不會被這些侮辱的外號所傷”之后的回音，它們當然會傷害你。
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.
但是我們的生活本來就是如此，不斷在喜怒哀樂之間平衡反復，更少的回味痛苦，體驗更多的美。