Memories are so crazy. Sometimes they come in waves; sometimes they are just little blips in the day. Sometimes it's hard to know what is a memory, what is made up by our minds, and what are the accounts of others. It seems young to be having memories from 2-1/2 years old, yet here we are.

“Sit here in your rocking chair while I mow the grass.”

The sound I heard then, what was that? The pain, what was that? It sounded like a gunshot. It felt like a bullet had hit my eye.

“Oh my god, oh my god, did a rock fly out of the lawn mower?”

The pain. The lights. The ambulance ride. Holding onto my dad’s finger. My mom’s tears. Surgery.

It’s fine. No pain now. Parents. Hugs. Ice cream. But why are they still crying?

“The rock was 1-1/2 inches from her brain. It didn't hit the brain but we did have to take her eye. We are going to give her an artificial eye. We will teach you how to clean it and it will look as normal as we can make it.”

Different. There is going to be something different here. Different is not good.

Things are good at home. But then there is school ... no one is there to protect at school. Different is not good here.

“Hey big eye.”

“Look, there’s big eye.”

Ugh. Why can’t they come up with something more original?

“Got big plans this weekend, big eye? Like anyone would invite you to their party. Ha ha. Going to go get drunk with your boyfriend tonight? Oh, wait, you don’t have a boyfriend. Ha ha.”

Just ignore them. Pretend they are not even there and they will go away. Just get your books from your locker. This place is so stupid. I don’t want to go to class. Ugh, this sucks.

Slide into the back of the room. Maybe no one will see me. Be invisible and they won’t notice you’re different. Ah, a seat in the back. Ah, the bell. I can rest.

“Boys, you need to quiet down over there. The bell rang and it’s time to get started.”

“Boys, I’m going to need to split you up. You, come here and sit in between these two. We need to break them up.”

What?! What?! NOOO!!!!! No, no, no. Don’t you realize what you’re doing teacher?

“Oh, cool, it’s big eye. What’s up? Can you take your eye out? What happened? Why is your eye fake? Why are you such an ugly dork?”

Why would the teacher put me right in the middle of hell? What am I doing wrong? Why does everyone hate me? Why am I so ugly? Why does my life suck?

“Who did they pick for homecoming court? Let’s nominate big eye. Ha ha.”

“You should try out for cheerleading, big eye.”

Oh, my gosh, that is the quarterback of the football team. He’s so nice to me. Maybe he’s serious?! I love to dance. Maybe I will. Maybe people would like me if I was a cheerleader. I’m really not that bad.

“Oh my gosh guys, I’m trying to get big eye to try out for the cheerleading squad. Wouldn’t that be hilarious.”

I hate myself so much. Why would I even think I could do something like that or that someone actually liked me.

The bell ... Brrrrrriiiiinnnng.

Thank God.

I can’t wait to lie down. I’m so tired. I’m just so tired.

I break through the sanctuary of home, crashing to my bedroom floor.

I’m so tired of being here. What if I ended my life and I could watch all their faces in despair over what they made me do. I can’t bear this life one more day. There is no other way.

I wish there was another option.

I love my family and I hope to get out of this hell one day.

What if I try one more thing? What is the opposite of this dark hell? A heaven with light. Hell = the devil. Light = God. What if I look to the light?

I drop to my knees in prayer for the first time.

“God, please help me.”

My mind is being transformed. All the darkness is being replaced by light. Goodness. I am so lucky to be alive.

God stopped the rock from hitting my brain; instead he cushioned its blow.

It’s a small price to pay to have a big, artificial eye. I am so blessed. I have life.

God: “One day, you will speak in front of hundreds, and you will tell them of my grace and they will come to me. One day, all of your pain will be used to help others.”

I look out over the microphone in the gym where I went to school. It’s so surreal. I talk about the horror I went through in these halls. My redemption comes by helping others with my story – from darkness to light, and I had everything I needed inside me the whole time.