Skin Deep

Yellow,

the color of the sun that I drew,

the color of the teddy bear that I grew up with,

the color of my favorite fruit.

To younger me, it was my favorite color,

one that I associated with my favorite characters

like Spongebob and Pikachu and Bob the Builder.

To younger me, yellow was such a great color

because it looked so innocent,

and it sparked feelings of both excitement and calmness.

To younger me, yellow became a color I hated.

Yellow,

the color that I could never forget.

What I associated with joy and excitement

became a color of judgement and mockery.

My words, my thoughts, my actions,

were all prefaced by this color.

It started small and (seemingly) harmless,

from the surprise at my lack of an accent,

to the assumptions of things I liked and disliked,

to the infrequent, immature, and intolerable jokes.

To younger me, yellow became the reason I was different,

the reason behind these negative experiences.

To younger me, being happy meant distancing myself from my yellow.

To younger me, yellow was only skin deep.

It shouldn't have been anything more.

Yellow,

the color that I'm still reconciling with.

As I've grown, the meaning of yellow has grown with me.

For many, it might just be a pretty color,

a color of fun and excitement.

To younger me, it was a color of sadness,

and the color of being different.

But after years of learning and experiencing and understanding,

the color means that, and so much more.

To me, yellow is joy and excitement, pain and sorrow.

To me, yellow is both the color I'm given and the color I build upon.

To me, yellow is the color that makes me different,

yet still unites me with everyone.

To me, yellow is my life.

Regardless of how I live,

or what I do and don't do,

all of my experiences are created in this color.