During hight-school, I tried to stay in the background. Because there’s not really much you can do when almost whole your face is covered by a birthmark as big as mine.
People either stared openly at me, muttered about me under their breath, or even had no scruples in calling me exactly what they were thinking about me right then.
At age 17, any expectations regarding strangers being friendly with me were long gone, let alone having any hopes of catching a guy’s attention.
Prom season made everything even harder for me.
Now the corridors were filled with garish posters everywhere I turned, all my friends talked about their dates and dresses, my news feed was flooded with countdowns to the greatest night of our lives, and yet I already knew exactly how my prom night was going to go down – either locked up in my room all night long or spending the evening alone in some dark corner of the gym.
My mother definitely did not like when I talked like that.
She was struggling with two jobs to provide a place to live for us, but still she somehow managed to make me feel good. When I told her about my decision not to attend the prom, she kindly explained that it happens once in our lives, and I at least should have one positive memory of it before we graduated from school.
