love is color blind.

I wrote this story (though I haven't completely finished it), because I was thinking about how annoying it is to me when other people judge inter-racial couples. Seriously, what the hell does it matter if a black man and a white girl are together or a chinese woman and a Puerto Rican man are together. It's just idiocy, ignorance, and immaturity to criticize couples of different races.

I am no one special. Just an ordinary woman with plain brown eyes, salt and pepper speckled gray hair, and relatively fair skin aged with years of the weight of taking care of others. I am no one unique. I get lost easily in a sea of people and not many recognize my existence. I am not noticed, nor do I want to be. These things just don’t bother me. Because at one time, I mattered to someone. And even though they thought they had taken that away from me, his memory is still very much alive.
I was young and naïve, as any woman is who becomes smitten with the idea of being genuinely cared about. Was it wrong to love a man that society placed beneath their filthy, hypocritical feet? Maybe. But what was it that made it so wrong? Perhaps the fact that our skin pigments were noticeably different. Or perhaps, it was that he made very little money when I, myself, obviously was quite well off. Perhaps his manner of speaking was too harsh for ears of my stature. Or maybe, just maybe, we were two very different people living in very different worlds. Yes that had to be it. But even still, I could not stop wondering how perfectly I might fit with the contours of his body. Such thoughts that liked to taunt me every free moment that caught me. He was so close within my reach. Yet, fell just short of the soft imprints of my overly cleansed fingertips.

♥