I am a freshman Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado. The site of one of the most fatal school shootings in the history of the US. The tragedy is deep rooted in my community, and the scars visible. For most people in the US, even the word "Columbine" sparks a memory of the news casts and videos of the tragedy unravelling before their eyes. I wasn't even an idea when that day dawned, but I bear the scars. I bear the scars of the library atrium in place of where my friend's brother died and students who were just like me died at the hands of peers. I bear the scars of getting stared at whenever I proudly wear my Columbine High School shirt away from the community like any given teen would do with their high school. I bear the scars of having to have the "Isn't it creepy?" conversations with new friends when they ask where I go to school. I bear the scars of learning about the history and noticing the tragic places that have become normal to me, being familiar with where the demented laughs echoed off the walls. Yes, I bear those ugly scars, but just like any scar, one gets used to it and  then rarely notices it. I know that I could never in any way imagine the trauma of being there on that day, but I can feel it sometimes as I walk through the halls. The roots have settled in the community and life goes on. My school is normal, but it will never be the same as it was. That is how our flower has bloomed and it can only get stronger.