"dark as the midnight hour or bright as the morning sun, give a fuck about your complexion, i know what the germans done."
I STARED AT MYSELF in the mirror and started to pull and scratch at my skin, thinking that maybe just maybe this color would go away.
I turned away, ashamed at what was looking back at me. Mom always told me that my skin was beautiful and that it glowed like the morning star above, but i never believed her. She is my mother after-all and mothers say anything to make they're children feel better, even if its a lie.
There was nothing wrong with being black, i know that, but i just wasnt comfortable with my color, i feel out of place. All of my friends are lighter shades then me so i stand out more, i dont know its a personal issue i have with myself.
It all started i was seven, I remember watching the tv, seeing all these pretty light skinned girls, wanting to be just like them, I would look down at my arms and shake my head thinking i wasn't the right shade.
I told my mom i wanted to be like those but she shook her head and told me, "you're perfect the way you are, God made you beautiful." I disagreed with her but i didn't say anything, not wanting to start an argument.
One day i was drawing a family portrait but instead of making myself dark brown i found the lightest shade and colored myself in with it.
I remember running to my mom showing her the picture expecting her to smile but she did the total opposite. She started to cry, she tried to quickly wipe them away but it was no use because they were rushing down her face.
I watched her as she put down the picture and walked to her room, closing the door behind her. Still till this day i could hear her asking God why i didnt like the pigment of my skin.
I shook the memory out of my head and walked over to the windowsill, sitting down looking out.
There was a moving truck across the street. I could see a family bringing boxes inside. That house has been on sale for months, i didn't think anyone would buy it, guess i was wrong.
I watched them, not in a creepily way of course. Its just that not a lot of action happens around my neighborhood and i have nothing better to do.
I didn't realize i was staring for that long because a boy around my age looked up at my window with a puzzling look on his face. I quickly hopped off the windowsill and hid, i never moved so fast in my life.
Slowly i lifted up my head to see if he was still there and he was, i could see him shaking his head confused, probably thinking i was a stalker. I haven't even met this boy and he's probably already creeped out my me, great.
YOU ARE READING
[complexion] ⇒ [devin gordon] [✓]Fanfiction
com·plex·ion kəmˈplekSHən the natural color, texture, and appearance of a person's skin, especially of the face. or where a boy named devin wants a girl named ariella to love the skin shes in. @ gizzylelee | 2016