My grandma passed away (unexpectedly) when I was 17 - she died in my arms... I felt that anything that was or was to be was over for me.. she was the only person to ever love me, remember my bday...and the traditions.. nothing would ever be done again.. my mom was incapable...

when it came time for senoirs to have their pictures taken.. I refused..

I thought.. truely... truely.. thought... that the pictures would show.. the uglyness that was inside of me.. like a reflection of what my dad and the teacher had done.. that it was going to somehow show up in those pictures..

I can remember the ordeal of having them taken... the terror of picking them up... and finally the relief that my secret was still safe..because the pictures just showed a girl with waist length red hair... me... not a monster...contorted with uglyness..

Though I can "understand" where other people may not "understand"... that at 17.. I believed that.. but I did...
and I will never forget.. that "ordeal"... the waiting for the pictures so sure.. that my secret would be "there" for all to know...

The "pictures" as an adult.. safely shredded.. to be thought of no more...