“* — Footnotes For Pain”

 by Adena M’lynn

I wasn’t born with an asterisk,

but I should’ve been.

Right there on the birth certificate—

next to weight, length,

time of arrival—

a tiny *

curled like a warning label,

a whisper that says,

subject to harm.

survival may resemble defiance.

terms and conditions may apply.

Nobody tells you the first scream you let out

might echo for decades.

That the cradle isn’t always safer than the storm,

and sometimes love

comes with latex gloves and

non-disclosure agreements.

I didn’t read the fine print.

Didn’t know

“you’re so mature for your age”

was code for,

*we’ll exploit you and call it a compliment.

Didn’t see the clause that read,

*this child will become fluent in apology,

even for things that weren’t her fault.

Didn’t realize the survival skills—

those sharp-edged gifts she carved from trauma—

would one day be criminalized.

Would send her straight to hell,

to prison,

where she’d be taught how to bury pain

like it was contraband,

taught to catalog her hurt

like inventory no one would claim.

Where silence isn’t golden—

it’s required.

Where crying is evidence,

and healing is not part of the sentence.

She became the asterisk.

The footnote they all skipped.

The warning label that read:

*bad decisions

as if pain were a choice.

No one mentioned

that the bruises you don’t see

leave longer sentences

than the ones a judge hands down.

And healing would come

with footnotes,

errata,

and redacted memories—

my body blacked out whole chapters

to survive the edit.

I was red-flagged before I ever got the chance

to write my own story.

Annotated by trauma,

edited by institutions,

blamed for typos I didn’t type.

There should have been

a damn warning.

*may confuse handcuffs with accountability.

*may be punished for inherited scars.

*may still be a child

in a grown woman’s punishment.

But here I am—

writing the footnotes in my own blood.

And healing would come

with footnotes,

errata,

and redacted memories—

my body blacked out whole chapters

to survive the edit.

Healing is not linear.

Pain is not criminal.

And surviving

should not require an apology.

Yes—there’s an asterisk.

But it no longer points to shame.

It points to this,

*See soul for full context.

*All rights reclaimed.