For a long time, I was invisible. I would walk from one class to another in high school or walk home without speaking or looking at anyone, and no one acknowledged me, either. I would see pictures online of my friends hanging out and hear them talk in school about all the fun things they'd done that I hadn't been invited to. At first I was bitter, jealous even, but then those feelings were replaced, first by sadness and then by acceptance. Sadness that I didn't fit into their group and they didn't want me around. And then acceptance that I was invisible. So, I went day after day, speaking when spoken to and hoping that someone would see me. But, for the most part, the hurt I felt etched into my face, the emptiness I felt inside, and the cuts on my arm remained, like me, unseen.

Those cuts have turned from angry red lines crisscrossing in all directions to scars. My understanding was that they were still invisible to everyone else. I was wrong.

This past Easter, I was at church and was sitting near a large family. At the end of the service, we were wishing one another a happy Easter when one girl, roughly 4 or 5, pointed to my left forearm and, with no hesitation, said, "What happened to your arm?"

I couldn't very well explain to a girl of 4 or 5 that there was a time that I viewed myself as worthless, undeserving of love and was filled with so much pain and hatred for myself that the only option I saw was to drive a razor into my skin. So, I gave her a small smile and said,"it was an accident."

"It was an accident."

Those words have echoed in my head all week. I could have told the girl that an animal scratched me. I could have told her that nothing happened. I could have said a plethora of things, and I settled on telling her it was an accident. The more I think about it, the more I realize the truth in my answer. Every cut I've inflicted upon myself has been an accident.

Not directly. The action of cutting itself, in those moments, was intentional. No, the accident that resulted in scars was the opinion I had of myself. I was wrapped up in thinking about things that I didn't have but wanted; I wanted great grades, I wanted to spend time with friends, I wanted to be beautiful, and I wanted to be loved. But, all I would see when I looked in a mirror was a girl who was going nowhere and could easily be replaced by someone much better. All I would feel in school was lonely as I saw what wonderful friendships and relationships my peers had and wondered why I couldn't have those too.

I spent years absorbed in how others perceived me. I wanted to be perfect for my family, in hopes that one day I wouldn't go to bed feeling like I was letting my parents down. I wanted to be loved by my friends, in the selfish hope that they would reach out. Or, at least, respond when I asked what they were up to. I was so caught up in trying to be what I thought other people wanted -- and beating myself up because I believed I would never reach it, which meant there was obviously something wrong with me -- that I made the mistake of ignoring everything that was going well.

Any time something was good, I either found an explanation for it or thought that there had been a mistake. If I got a good test grade, it was because my dad had helped/ensured I studied. If I hung out with a group of friends, it was because they felt bad for me. When I had a boyfriend, I had no idea what he saw in me. You get the idea.

Now, I look at where I am and how I'm doing, literally and figuratively, and I compare it to where I've been for the past several years. Sure, an obvious change has been that I'm now in college and not in high school, but my work ethic, fashion sense (or lack thereof), interests, etc. really haven't changed. Without a doubt, the biggest change in my life over the past several months has been my view of myself.

No longer do I see myself as a worthless person undeserving of the company of others. No longer do I feel like I have absolutely no talent or skills. Am I flawed? Of course. But now I see that, through work and an incredible support system, I have the things I have always wanted. I am doing fairly well in school. I get to spend time with some truly exceptional people. There are days that I think I am beautiful. I know, every day, that I am loved.

Accidents happen to everyone. Some, however, are more avoidable than others. Do not make the mistake of believing you are worthless, undeserving of the life you have, or unlovable. I promise you, you are not.