Abisha, your words hit home.

I’ve had to live with the same creams and comments. Even now, sometimes when my burnt brown arm rest against my milky-white friend’s, I feel this prickle at my throat.

But I know what it is. It is my internalised rejection which was indoctrinated into my when I had no knowledge but only emotions.

I tell myself, its just a reflection of light projected from my irises. Its what I think. It could be everything, or it could be nothing.

Much love to you for this honest piece.