Scars-this is a true story,my true story I hate green. Not just any kind of green, its just that puke green you see in hospitals. Someone told me once that if you stare at it long enough all you’ll see is different shades of green. No more purple or blue, just green. But it’s hard not to stare at those ugly green hospital walls when there is nothing else to look at. If that color had a smell it would smell just like that hospital did. Like someone tried to cover up the smell of their stinky sneakers but it ended up just making it worse. I was still wearing those green clothes they give all the “fresh meat” when entering that particular ward of the hospital. I had asked the lady at the front desk if they had any shirts with longer sleeves, the lady only glanced up from her silver rimmed glasses and wavered her head from left to right. “ Ay new girl” I heard someone say behind me,” why do you need a longer shirt? We all got ‘um, I mean that’s what your here for right?” she chuckled as she placed her wrist four inches from the tip of my nose. “My name is Kirra,” she replied before I had time to say a word. She lowered her wrist from in front of my face to my hand. She was unlike anybody I had ever known before, and she was ok with that. She was ok with being different. I didn’t really need to talk when Kirra was around; she was the one who did my part and her part of the conversation. I didn’t know then that the reasons why she talked so much, why she had a bunch of little needle pricks in the crease of her arm, why she always twitched, and why in the middle of the night she had crazy temper tantrums. But I did know she was my friend. Me, Kirra and the rest of the adolescent delinquents headed towards the cafeteria where the food looked and tasted just like the walls except for the Kool aid, which was red. Kirra’s piercing stare caught my attention; she cocked her head a little to the left. I sped up till I was parallel with her. I dropped my right hand she dropped her left, we clasped hands only for a brief moment. The wad of paper in my hand was wet from hers. I opened it and read. As soon as I had read it my fearful eyes darted back to find hers. My lips formed the word how? Before I was answered she grabbed my hand looked into my eyes, smiled and she ran and I was with her. We were free, the real kind. Kirra was female version of 007 and I was her sidekick. We made it to the third gate before Helga the fat lesbian guard tackled us to the ground. Luckily we made it out with only cuts and brusies from Helga’s love handles. “ WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO YOURSELF?!?” my father yelled at me, “all you do is cause more damage, more suffering. We try and help you we even put you in a nice expensive hospital and look! Look what you do!” My hands in my lap and my eyes focused intensely on them like they were the ninth wonder of the world. “ Saying this to your daughter does not help her sir. It only causes more pain for her and yourself. Now if every family meeting we have is like this we will be forced to take away your visitation rights,” Dr. Bradley barked at my father,” she needs more time...” “No” I whispered. They both turned and looked at me.“ I said NO! Have either one of you asked me what I wanted?” I glared at them with such passion I had never shown before, “ I know I’m messed up I don’t need anyone else telling me what I ALREADY FUCKING KNOW. I’m done. I’m done with you and with the blame, the hurt, and the hatred I’ve had to deal with because you’ve told me that I’m not right in the head. Well look Dad I’m really crazy!” I skipped around the room throwing Dr. Bradley’s papers in the air. I pulled up my sleeves that day. Like Kirra used to say, ”Scars are like tattoos….but with better stories.”