I remember when I dressed with baggy clothes. My hair covering my face as I walked through the halls. Looking into every classroom hoping for a bit of attention. Greeting only those I knew, but didn’t trust. Clothes that could be confused as rags as they hung off of me. My mind only able to fathom what was in front of me. I paid no attention to how my actions could influence my future, but only how those around me would think of me. I wasn’t always like that. In my attempt to be genuie and outspoken I was always met with questions like:
“why do you act like that?”
“why do you wear things like that?”
“Why do you listen to stuff like that?”
“why do you talk like that?”
“are you mixed?”
The only causassion relation I have in my family tree that I know of is my great grandfather, but I don’t understand how that would influence my personality. They see me as one of you, you’re the only one that doesn’t.
I used to care so much for acceptance of others that I hid my quirks and portrayed lies like that of a false historic painting. The canvas saturated in a desire to not feel superior, but just feel as though I was apart of something.
Growing tired of feeling like an outcast amongst my peers of the same origin I was. Hoped that we all could be different instead of falling into an intangible cage. Phsyically we were expressive, but our minds were locked. Rusted chains that discolored our brains to not see ourselves as anything more than what we were told we were. A direct represnation of how we were portrayed. I’m now just starting to scarcily see us as smart problem solvers and not just loud music lovers on popular television.