to this day

中文译名来自时至今日，由加拿大诗人谢恩。科伊赞(Shane Koyczan)所写的一首诗，讨论了歧视问题对于人持久而深远影响。这首诗告诉我们，生活总是要走下去的，要协调自己，少一份悲痛，多一份美丽。

• 中文名 谢恩.科伊赞
• 外文名 Shane Koyczan
• 出生地 耶洛奈夫
• 国    籍 加拿大
• 职    业 加拿大诗人和作家

诗歌简介

　　来自中文译名时至今日，360百科由加拿大诗人谢恩.科伊赞(Shane Koyczan)所写的一首诗，讨论了歧视问题对于人持久而深远影响。心理学研皇陆台学究证实，儿童欺凌会形成心理阴影，严重增加日后成年患心理抑郁疾病几率。欺凌通常发生在儿童青少年之间，但也可发生在成年人(如老师)和儿童青少年之间。 虽然成长没有挫折伤疤就不会坚强，但长期的压元团省升冲界里未到渐力不得到关注和释我诉兴孩铁石放可能会导致各种心理问题，需要加强家长和老师与孩子们的沟通交流。正如该诗的最后所说，生活总是要才水他走下去的，要协调自己，少一份悲痛，多一份美丽。

　　基于To This Day 制作了一部短片，由由80个动画制作人联合打造，各自制作一段20秒以内的内容，最终形成全片。该片上传到网络以后迅速感染了无数观众。后来，在TED舞台上，伴随着汉娜.爱普森优雅的小提琴伴奏，他再一次精彩地重演了这个作品，并讲述了幕后制作的故事。

诗歌全文

　　To T初果跳皇席味员垂够his Day

　　When I was a kid

　　I 肥胜员新决势始谁used to think t本夫乎另委hat pork chops and karate chops

　　were the same thing

激　　I thought they were both pork chops

　　and because my grandmother thoug领孔织营判走职一七升义ht it was cute

　　and because they were my favourite

　　she let me keep 轻微慢王清doing it

　　not really a big deal

　　one day

　　before I realized fat kids are not designed to climb trees

　　I fell out of a tree

　　and bruised the right side of my body

　　I didn't want to tell my grandmother about it

　　because I was afraid I'd get in trouble

　　for playing 指论土阿用价牛导呀somewhere that I shouldn't have been

　　a few days later the gym teacher noticed the bruise

　　and I got sent to the principal's office

　　from there I was sent to another small room

　　with a really 阶价nice lady

　　who asked me all kinds of questions

　　about my life at home

　　I saw no reason to lie

　　as far as I was concerned

　　life was pretty good

　　I to原队能内根药束右怀ld her "whenever I'm sad

　　my grandmother gives me karate cho加设煤远ps"

　　this led to a full scale investiga仅石诗理耐背急十春器者tion

　　and I was removed from the house for three days

　　until they finally decided to ask how I 露got the bruises

　　news of thi拿华那s silly little story quickly spread through the school

　　and I 硫部够掌容农端妈earned my first nickname

　　pork chop

　　to this day

　　I hate pork chops

　　I'm not the only kid

　　who grew up this way

　　surrounded by people who used to say

　　that rhyme about sticks and stones

　　as if broken bones

　　hurt more than the names we got called

　　and we got called them all

　　so we grew up believing no one

　　would ever fall in love with us

　　that we'd be lonely forever

　　that we'd never meet someone

　　to make us feel like the sun

　　was something they built for us

　　in their tool shed

　　so broken heart strings bled the blues

　　as we tried to empty ourselves

　　so we would feel nothing

　　don't tell me that hurts less than a broken bone

　　that an ingrown life

　　is something surgeons can cut away

　　that there's no way for it to metastasize

　　it does

　　she was eight years old

　　our first day of grade three

　　when she got called ugly

　　we both got moved to the back of the class

　　so we would stop get bombarded by spit balls

　　but the school halls were a battleground

　　where we found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day

　　we used to stay inside for recess

　　because outside was worse

　　outside we'd have to rehearse running away

　　or learn to stay still like statues giving no clues that we were there

　　in grade five they taped a sign to her desk

　　that read beware of dog

　　to this day

　　despite a loving husband

　　she doesn't think she's beautiful

　　because of a birthmark

　　that takes up a little less than half of her face

　　kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer

　　that someone tried to erase

　　but couldn't quite get the job done

　　and they'll never understand

　　that she's raising two kids

　　whose definition of beauty

　　begins with the word mom

　　because they see her heart

　　before they see her skin

　　that she's only ever always been amazing

　　he

　　was a broken branch

　　grafted onto a different family tree

　　adopted

　　but not because his parents opted for a different destiny

　　he was three when he became a mixed drink

　　of one part left alone

　　and two parts tragedy

　　started therapy in 8th grade

　　had a personality made up of tests and pills

　　lived like the uphills were mountains

　　and the downhills were cliffs

　　four fifths suicidal

　　a tidal wave of anti depressants

　　and an adolescence of being called popper

　　one part because of the pills

　　and ninety nine parts because of the cruelty

　　he tried to kill himself in grade ten

　　when a kid who still had his mom and dad

　　had the audacity to tell him "get over it" as if depression

　　is something that can be remedied

　　by any of the contents found in a first aid kit

　　to this day

　　he is a stick on TNT lit from both ends

　　could describe to you in detail the way the sky bends

　　in the moments before it's about to fall

　　and despite an army of friends

　　who all call him an inspiration

　　he remains a conversation piece between people

　　who can't understand

　　sometimes becoming drug free

　　has less to do with addiction

　　and more to do with sanity

　　we weren't the only kids who grew up this way

　　to this day

　　kids are still being called names

　　the classics were

　　hey stupid

　　hey spaz

　　seems like each school has an arsenal of names

　　getting updated every year

　　and if a kid breaks in a school

　　and no one around chooses to hear

　　do they make a sound?

　　are they just the background noise

　　of a soundtrack stuck on repeat

　　when people say things like

　　kids can be cruel?

　　every school was a big top circus tent

　　and the pecking order went

　　from acrobats to lion tamers

　　from clowns to carnies

　　all of these were miles ahead of who we were

　　we were freaks

　　lobster claw boys and bearded ladies

　　oddities

　　juggling depression and loneliness playing solitaire spin the bottle

　　trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal

　　but at night

　　while the others slept

　　we kept walking the tightrope

　　it was practice

　　and yeah

　　some of us fell

　　but I want to tell them

　　that all of this shit

　　is just debris

　　leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought

　　we used to be

　　and if you can't see anything beautiful about yourself

　　get a better mirror

　　look a little closer

　　stare a little longer

　　because there's something inside you

　　that made you keep trying

　　despite everyone who told you to quit

　　you built a cast around your broken heart

　　and signed it yourself

　　you signed it

　　"they were wrong"

　　because maybe you didn't belong to a group or a clique

　　maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball or everything

　　maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth

　　to show and tell but never told

　　because how can you hold your ground

　　if everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it

　　you have to believe that they were wrong

　　they have to be wrong

　　why else would we still be here?

　　we grew up learning to cheer on the underdog

　　because we see ourselves in them

　　we stem from a root planted in the belief

　　that we are not what we were called we are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting empty on a highway

　　and if in some way we are

　　don't worry

　　we only got out to walk and get gas

　　we are graduating members from the class of

　　fuck off we made it

　　not the faded echoes of voices crying out

　　names will never hurt me

　　of course

　　they did

　　but our lives will only ever always

　　continue to be

　　a balancing act

　　that has less to do with pain

　　and more to do with beauty.