What they see:
They tell me that I’m attractive. They say that I’m skinny. They think I’m tall and muscular. They love how curly my hair is.

They see a bright student who studies hard. They see an intellectual who debates and speaks well. They see straight a’s during my junior year. They see a kid who gets letters from Princeton.

They see the inspirational kid who beat cancer at sixteen years old. They see a living example of a comeback kid. They see a fighter.

They see a musician. They see a singer. They see that friend that always makes them laugh. They see a guy who always tries to help out. They see a loving, caring person who is there for them.

They see a promising future.

What I see:

I see an ugly face. I see disproportionate features. I see spotty facial hair that will never be attractive. I see pretty green eyes marred by their surroundings like a brilliant lion in a crowded littered zoo. I see fat even if there isn’t any. I see two arms without muscle.

I see a student who tries hard but isn’t good enough. I see fours on AP exams when my friends get fives. I see a speaker who is overshadowed by others. I see second place as being worse than one instead of better than many. I see my girlfriend getting letters from Dartmouth instead of me. I see a change in the grading scale and pure luck.

I see a guy who sat in a bed for eleven days and received some chemicals. I see a guy with one of the most curable kinds of cancers. I see a simple procedure.

I see a second-chair trombonist who should be better. I see my friend who is going to Eastman with whom I will never compete. I see a singer who only gets into groups because of a low register developed by chance. I see a friend who isn’t as funny as other people. I see a guy who puts up with other people rather than helping them.

I see a short future.