My Color's Different

All my life I was different.

Was born different, will die different.

Celeste, why are you so different?

My name is Celeste, my color’s different.

Not pink, not blue – different.

Everywhere I went they called me gifted, said I was different.

Put a ball at my feet, knew I was different.

They saw it in my eyes, saw it in my soul, my results remarkable

They called me different.

Grew up thinking I couldn’t fail. Every challenge I smashed, ‘cause I was different.

Any thing they told me to do, I did it and I did it well — different.

Report cards and sports balls — different.

Succeeded at everything — different.

Told not to try out to give the other kids a chance — different.

Told to stop raising my hand — different.

“No one will like you when your color is just so... different.”

Learned how to dull my shine, to quell the loneliness inside from being different.

Tried to blend, smudge and camouflage

To not be so different.

Too much effort or creativity that’s different.

Why you always have to get an A, different?

Is your dad proud of you, different?

That you’re, like, a boy or something? You know, something different?

That you like sports and stuff? You know, stuff that’s different?

“Always training and stuff, can't hang out and stuff, different?”

I grew up different.

Who I am, is different.

How I live, different.

For twenty years I denied, tried to fight the voice inside

That told me I was different.

Lived inside boxes and cages inside my own mind — different.

No, I don’t care — I’m different.

I don’t want to kiss that boy — I’m different.

I don’t want to wear that dress — I’m different.

And oh, you’ve never had sex? That’s different…

The boys would hate it when I would beat them but they would never accept me - why? ‘Cause I’m different.

Even though I would always be better and eventually become the second best in the playground I would always be chosen last - why? 'Cause I’m different.

The girls would talk to me and try to relate but we could never connect - why? 'Cause I’m different.

I am not a woman, I am not a man.

So what are you then?

I’m Different.

I used to think I was an alien species inside a foreign land, study mere mortals and imitate them

The way they do that with their hand….

But when I would do it, it would just be… different…

And now 10 years later they call me different.

Ask “why am I so different?”

What makes you so different, that at 25 you’ll speak your mind and they’ll hear you — different.

And I just say…

I’m different.

That’s funny, when did you make me not different?

All my life I’ve been different.

Why stop now?