Color (Confession #2.)

When I was a very young child, I was outside of my apartment with my mother on 3rd Street in the city of Newburgh. I was probably only a few years old, but I can't remember exactly how old. If I remember correctly, a white girl and her parent walked by. I looked at her, looked down at the color of my arm, then broke out bawling in tears as I realized that she was white and I was not. I realized that I would never be white, but that never kept me from trying my hardest to outrun my own shadow.

I've had serious psychological problems due to the fact that my exterior never matched my interior. It all makes sense now knowing what I now know. I used to be a straight-up headcase.