My uniform is white but my eyes are green and this is how I see the world

The shuttle sets off into a clip-clip-clip rhythm

Accompanied by a din of voices

Women in their 40’s and 50’s making small talk about their dayweekplanskidsdinner and the weather

I, of course, am forced to eavesdrop

And all I can think is that I hope I can never utter that sentence that

Mrs. curley-haired, turtle-necked, sensible-shoed woman in the 3^rd isle just said

I hope that I can never,

EVER.

With any sincerity, say

“This week was a blur”

I may, at this moment, look like a blur

My white, pristine, student uniform blending in with my skin tone and hair color

Clean.

Crisp.

Camouflaged.

White and spotless,

But in my mind is a mess of colors exploding

Inside the sounds are loud, dissonant, and unruly

One day, I may be in that woman’s shoes

One day I may be on the other side of the planet

We’ll see.

But no matter what or where or how my immediate and distant future turn out,

I refuse to let who I am be defined by where I am

I refuse to quit seeing the beauty in every day.

I refuse to quit being in awe at each new moment.