Wed, 09/03/2014 - 12:08 -- tiraluv

Sometimes I feel I'm a chameleon.

See they have this amazing ability to morph into the color around them

 just to blend in with their surroundings.

It didn’t take me but 2 seconds to realize I do the exact same thing.

In the grocery store,

I play the good girl.

Not touching everything she sees

Even though I really wanna know what those melons feel like.

When I get around adults I don’t know.

I get this sweet little angel voice that I like to call my bubbly white girl voice.

What makes a voice white and black by the way?

Ebonics right?

But wait, that’s another topic.

I’m still talking about my chameleon disease.

And yes I call it a disease, because one day I’m going to forget what my true color is.

I’m forever color changing as my atmosphere changes.

I get around “my people” and I suddenly have to act hard.

Don’t talk too much and don’t ask too many questions cause I might be called a snitch.

I get to my AP Lit class and I morph into the brainiack that I’m supposed to be.

But we all know I’m not Jimmy Neutron.

So I dare not raise my hand with the wrong answer,

Otherwise I might get rolled eyes and asked why am I even in this class.

I’m in Spanish now, and I’m the fluent Spanish speaking Latina straight out of Spain.

Even though we all know  I’m about as dark as the Hershey’s bar that’s melting in your back pocket.

When I moved here, they said I had an accent.

I’d never heard of a Detroit accent before.

I guess they meant I spoke a little more black than most.

But there goes Ebonics again right.

I guess I lost my accent at the same time I forgot my designated color.

As I morph,

I sometimes wonder,

Who am I morphing for?

Because last time I checked,

God didn’t make me a chameleon.



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