I sit and I stare into the mirror at my chest.

The scar numbs my body like a blow to the head.

My first day back into the real world

And all my friends are going to wonder, “What happened to that girl?”

I use to be full of life and I had a heart full of love.

Now all I have are pain meds and showing I am tough.

My coach sits me down and asks me if I can play.

I told him to give that scholarship away.

Every thing I had worked for up to this point has been some sick joke that I worked on too long.

I am put to sleep and woken with a machine in my chest.

They claimed they fixed my heart but it feels more like they broke it instead.

Will every one I encounter feel sorry for me?

Lord knows pity is the last thing I need.

I am tough. I am strong. I will carry on.

This set back has made me sit back and question life.

Is it too late? Have I put up a good enough fight?

I will not allow others to see me as a machine.

I am beautiful. I am broken. But I am me.

I look at the important things that I have never been able to see.

I focus on school and getting a degree.

Maybe life has a funny way of showing us our destiny.

Once, I was a patient with no desires or dreams.

Today, I am graduating and on my way to help others in need.

I deserve respect because of what I have been through.

I am courageous because I jumped through the flaming hoops.

The scars on my body are battle wounds I accept.

If society doesn’t approve, then what the heck?!

Not everyone has a story written on their chest.