We have all had insults flung at us, suffered bruised pride and emotional scars, but hid the pain. Remember though, we survived. That is cause for celebration, for a salute to ourselves in the mirror, for our own Roman triumph down the sidewalks of our dusty old hometown.

Wear that thick scar tissue as if it were the skins of our enemies, carry every day forward as if it were the severed head of the playground bully who pulled up our skirts or pushed us down in the mud. We have earned this stiff-necked, limping parade, and we will beat our own drumming hearts through this day and the next and the next.

For this prompt, take an insult that burned you, but make it the light that guided you through the dark. For inspiration, read or listen to “Lisp” by Sam Sax.

You’ve got this.