There is a girl who comes to school every day wearing a band-aid. Each day she puts it somewhere else. One day it’s on her finger. The other day, it’s on her elbow. On another day, she puts it on her knee. Every day it’s in a new place. No one has asked her what happened or why she wears it. I have been curious from the first day I saw her.

She walked into school with her black messenger bag covered in various buttons with bands like Green Day and with song lyrics on them. What made her stand out though was the way she walked. Unlike everyone else walking at their own pace; she walked quick, small steps. Her head was looking at the floor and you could barely see her face due to her long black bangs like curtains before a play.

Although I did not have her in any of my classes, I have heard of her band-aids. Whenever my friends and I go the bathroom to fix our hair, we would talk about where she was wearing her band-aid that day. One day I asked them if they ever wondered why that girl wore a band-aid at all. All they said was that they didn’t really care.
Three months after that, I don’t know what came over me, but I randomly walked up to her during the last break of the year. She was sitting and listening to her I-pod.
“So, what’s the big deal with your band-aids,” I asked.
She unplugged her head phones from her ears while looking at me with her dark brown eyes and raising her eyebrows in surprise.
“You would either not understand or laugh at me.”
“No, I won’t. Why do you put a band-aid in a different place every day? It’s obvious you didn’t get hurt.”
“Did I?”
“What do you mean?”
“This is what gets me upset! Just because you don’t physically get hurt, everything’s okay!”
“Yeah. Pretty much.”
“Then you’ve never been hurt.”
“I did break my arm once and I think that qualifies as being hurt.”
“You still don’t get it. People can get hurt in different ways. I got hurt internally.”
“I still don’t get it. Why would you wear a band-aid at all?”
“I am trying to find a place to heal my wound. To fix the damage on my confidence.”
There was a short pause between us. It only last a few seconds though. The girl continued.

“I want people to realize that whatever they do or say hurts you. Even though the damage doesn’t show right away, it will in the future. I switch the spots for my band-aids to show that it is hard to heal. To show that it will be there forever.”

The bell rang signaling the last period of the year. After our little chat, I never saw her again. She moved away.

It’s now the middle of the summer and I found her blog. It’s called The Band-Aid Girl. The background is a black and white picture of the ocean. It is beautiful yet sad.

Directly under the name of her blog was her description box. In it read a poem:
I’m the girl who is alone.
I’m the girl who is different.
I’m the girl who cries
herself to sleep every night.
I’m the girl who needs someone by her side
all the time
I’m the girl who owns a heart
that will never mend.
I’m the girl who is judged by almost everyone.
I’m the girl who is left in the corner.
I’m the girl who has had enough knives
thrown at her.
I’m the girl who has lost her soul
a long time ago.
I’m the girl,
the Band-aid Girl.


After digesting this, I was confused. I read the rest of her blog. She is only sixteen and she has had all these different and terrible things happen to her. Although she seems weird wearing a different band-aid everyday in a different spot, it shows how strong she is while showing vulnerability. It also shows other people who are hurt that they are not alone. That with one band-aid can be strong enough to keep you stable from toppling over.