by Shell’Von McDonald
Photo by Kelly Sikkema, via Unsplash
Am I Different?
Am I different?
I’m colored, yes.
But I believe I have the same dreams as anyone else in the city. I mean, we all have the dream to strive in this life and become what we wanna be.
Am I different?
Why should it matter the way I grew up or the way I look? Why should it matter that my skin tone is darker than others? Does the way I talk really bother?
Am I different?
I am a young lady, yes.
Key word young
I don’t want to hear someone saying, “Aye, what’s behind ya looks nice.”
I don’t want to hear someone saying, “Do this, I don’t care about what you want to do.”
I don’t want to hear someone saying, “You look old enough, so act like it.”
Am I different?
In my opinion, there are changes that should be done. What are these changes?
Oh, I don’t know, maybe more respect for my skin. Apparently, these changes aren’t important. Because I’m used to it…?
But why?
Why did I have to grow up like this?
Am I different?
I’m 7 years old in the back seat of my dad’s car that is parked on the side of the road.
There are bright red and blue lights, and a scary man is being mean to my dad.
Why?
Dad is being nice.
Am I different?
You know, it’s heartbreaking how many mothers lose their sons because a policeman was trigger-happy. I mean, it’s crappy that I’m scared for my brothers’ lives in this horrible world.
Change is for the better, right?
Then…why are we still different?
Accidentally Pushed Away Again
I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to push you.
Oh, I pushed you too.
I’m sorry, I just don’t know what to do.
You made me feel that I needed to express myself, so I had to push you.
I promise I didn’t mean to.
Oh, please don’t comfort me, I might push you.
I’ve had to push people ever since I learned that expressing myself doesn’t do anything but hurt.
I don’t think I push hard, so you won’t be hurt for long.
Pushing away is my shield, automatic, like in a video game.
It’s a reflex.
Please don’t hate me, I promise, I don’t mean it.
It’s on accident.
Behind the Pretty Picture
What’s behind that pretty picture?
The one that has a colorful vase with a bright red rose in it.
But I can see there is something behind it.
Maybe a closer look is what I need.
Let me just take time to look behind this pretty picture.
Oh.
It’s just the same vase.
But it’s broken, it seems to still be cracking.
And the rose…
It isn’t as bright as it is in the pretty picture.
The petals of the rose are slowly falling.
I’m just going to ignore it.
The pretty picture is hiding it, so it will be fine.
It’ll be fine for it to rot on its own,
Behind the Pretty Picture.
Today’s World
Today’s world is full of lies and ties of meaning.
Meaning?
Meaning of what?
Is it the meaning of love?
Is it the meaning of acceptance?
Or…
Is it the meaning of misunderstanding?
There are so many meanings to think about.
But what is the meaning at the core of life?
Do you know?
So many questions, huh?
Every day I wonder.
Why do I have to live on a dream of nothing? Why do I have to be something or someone I didn’t prepare to be?
I am a friend, a sibling, a daughter, and a role model.
I am so many things I didn’t choose to be. I am forced to be grateful for a life I didn’t ask for.
I love all those who helped me grow.
But why do I have to be smarter? Why do I have to work harder?
Today’s world is poison, a pain for those who don’t know how to develop.
Today’s world is an infection for those who didn’t get a chance to slowly live their lives from birth to now.
An infection called trauma, an infection that corrupts one’s perspective on those around them.
The perspective that makes it difficult for a person to understand that it is okay to lean on others, even if they think they won’t listen or care.