In a sea of students, I am pastel blue—
muted and mainstream,
silent yet strong,
and teacher’s favorite shade of paper.
I am a combination:
a jumble of creamy white and electric blue,
much like what I add to my accustomed morning coffee,
and the shade of nail polish that my mom loves.
My friends say that they see me as blaring red—
rambunctious and rare,
gentle yet unmistakable,
and the apple of their eyes.
They say I am the first color of a rainbow after spring showers:
a reminder of the calm after the storm,
the source of my little brother’s smile
and earth’s favorite masterpiece.
And yet, I feel that I am neither pastel blue nor a blaring red
I am a concoction of the countless colors that exist:
olive green when my stomach starts to ache,
a sunset pink after a day on the lake,
and a shiny yellow as I watch the stars in the nightsky.