*This is originally was a spoken word poem*

I want to give a swift bird to the face to the next person that tells me something on my skin tone.

who only wants to get close to me so they can enjoyed the lighter side of darker skin. AS if I am an accessory!

My appearance is often taken as an invite for white people to get comfortable.

Why do you get to feel so comfortable! when I have to negotiate the terms of my opinions in exchange for my safety every time I step out of the house?

My mother is caucasian, skin so pale she puts sun screen on inside.

My farther is the darker side, african american with skin kissed by a midnight sky

My heritage was never something of shame to me, but to others I became the mixed blooded mutt that was to confusing for them to understand 

" so like what side do you claim more?" 

Like I need to choose one? 

"Naw man like which side do you fit in more with?"

 No side, this is the gray area no one talks about. Where I am everything and nothing at the same damn time.  Where phases like " Oh my, you're so exotic and not of here!" 

We where born in the same fucking TOWN.  "oh but you look so different then everyone else." I am so sick of explaining my self, my image ,my almost dark skin ,my almost white skin, My lightly softer and curlier hair.  " Is your hair real?" 

"Yes AND YES IT'S RUDE IF YOU TOUCH IT WITH OUT MY PERSIMMON"  

Getting questioned like I popped out the whom with a rule book about my mix of race like i have educate you on what you are two confused to understand for your self? " Oh what are you mixed with?" people  stop..." I bet I can guess what youre mixed with" People STOP telling me what I am

"OH you have to have the best of both worlds"
 stop telling me how to feel.
Like there is a down side to be just either?

Stop making me feel that just because I am interracial that I break the fabric of society. LIKE I am the cause of the harm in this world.

NO! 

I am the product of magic and a moment of love.
  Don't make me feel like I don't belong here, Like I have no rights.

When people ask me my name I prepare for the judgment and " oh I can't say that" 

as if I don't deserve a decent amount of respect for you to learn my name.

"Oh don't you have a nick name?"
" It's to hard to say" 

NO! my name is and always will be Deanajima and I will not white wash my name to make it easier for you to talk to me. Learn my name or don't  associate with me 

AND YES i am offended because you take time to pronounce Zach Gilifianakis and Arnold Schwarzenegger and even Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!

But my name is to hard?

OR am I not worth your time and respect?

YES i am still angry because I still get comments of  "why are you being so difficult it's just a name?!"

OH! it's JUST A NAME? 

OKAY " BLOCK- A, AARON,  Jqullen  ," SHALL I keep going?

Names are important because it  Identifies who you are. 

who you are can not be put in to a box of just race or just anything.

But people have just grown accustomed to bashing what they can not understand or attempt to pronounce.       Instead of embracing a different person.

  

FantaMares are REAL my Dear.

Fantasies. Fantasies are good. They keep you sane, and safe, and happy. But what happens when a fantasy turns sour? Into this dark, terrifying nightmare...

It's a very sunny day. The wind is still, the birds are singing... Not the same song, but still singing. There's children laughing. I'm running, laughing, for no reason at all. Behind me is Alex; chasing behind me with the silliest grin on his face. His eyes shining, skin glowing, hair curling around his head, like a crown. He's wearing an ombre tank top that outlines his muscles in his arms. We are laughing and teasing.... then we both abruptly stop. I see a group of people. It's not that these people are bad. They kind of bring a comforting feeling with them as they approach. We walk up and say hello, Alex and I. He makes friends quickly with his perfect little charm... and then I see this girl; she brings a dryness to my throat and pterodactyls to my stomach. I say hello to her and she returns the greeting. Inside, I realize I am faced with a decision: Ask her what is happening with her, or ignore the question, and be stubborn, as I always am. I know once I make this decision, I can never turn back. I'm stuck on this road until the whole thing plays out.

I think I'll just keep to myself. Not say anything. Make nice conversation.

They ask us how we're doing and we invite them to come with us to the lake. Justin, Austin, Christie, Dylan, all ten Riellys. So we all pack up into our vehicles. I walk over to Alex's car and stare in disbelief. It's a beautiful jeep. You know, one of those really pretty red jeeps with the cover off. I am in awe by the beauty of this jeep.

So we head to Pflugerville Lake. I begin to notice that something is not right... Something I should've noticed before, but didn't. The clouds turn to gray. Not just any gray, but a dark, violent gray that makes you shiver no matter what the temperature. There was something unnerving about the way they hovered above us... But I ignored them, and the unsettling feeling in the air around me.

When we get to the lake, we all spread out our towels. The guys strip off their shirts and of course, my attention is drawn to Alex. He is chiseled to perfection. The way he stood was very graceful; confident, but not arrogant. Extremely sexy, if you ask me... Not that I'd want to date Alex. There's just something very perfect about him. He's charming. Everyone knows it, and admires it. But enough about him. Back to my fantasy.

The guys stripped off their shirts, and us girls took of our shirts as well. I look at Christie; her simple black bathing suit looked right on her. Then I looked at her body. I could see no scars on her skin, though I could tell from the way that she stood that she'd fought in some pretty rough battles. And she won. I think that's why I like Christie. And she just has a sexy body.

We got into the water and I watched from afar as Austin grabbed Christie's hand. Aw, how cute. I still hate him. It's not that I HATE him, I just don't like their relationship. But then again, who am I to interfere? I'll let them do them. I can get over it. Nonetheless, the hand-holding was cute. The way their fingers interlocked... Justin, Dylan, and the ten other Rielly's ran into the water and immediately started splashing each other and romping around like children. I looked around for Alex, and before I knew it I was grabbed from behind, picked up off my feet, and thrown into the water.  Of course, it was Alex. After I realized it was him, I wasn't so scared anymore, even though the freezing cold water shocked me quite a bit. It was calming to know that he did it and not some random stranger. I looked up at the sky and I was happy. Everything was just fine, things were going my way.

I soon realized, however, that this quaint little fantasy would soon be all over. I noticed those gray clouds again. They were getting darker, almost a black. They scared me. Suddenly, the gentle waves became rougher, harsher, and the water began to get even colder. I moved closer to Alex for warmth; he seemed not to notice the change around us. He was still smiling that same, enticing smile, and looking at me with those deep brown eyes. Austin and Christie had moved to sit on the dock, no doubt to avoid the chicken fight that had taken place between the Riellys. Dylan's laughter was echoing across the water as he attempted to take people down single-handedly.

The water became so turbulent and forceful that I had trouble keeping my head above the surface. Suddenly, I could no longer hear Dylan's playful laughter or the sounds of defeat as one Reilly after another was pulled mercilessly off his partner's shoulders. I panicked, and reached behind to where I knew Alex was standing, only he wasn't there. His warmth was gone, and his kind, comforting smile. I swam frantically to the dock and struggled to pull myself up out of the wicked waters. Austin was nowhere in sight, but alone at the end of the dock, I saw Christie. She was staring out over the water with a distant look on her face. I asked her what was happening and she nodded like she knew, but refused to tell me. The more at ease she looked, the more uncomfortable I became. I had the sudden urge to punch her pretty little face in.

Just as the thought crossed my mind, the water beneath us rose and twisted around her bony ankles. She turned to me with a look of hatred in her eyes, before being pulled quickly under the crashing waves.

I sat alone on the dock with my thoughts a great thundering storm above me and my tears a great, violent lake beneath me. My fantasy had turned into my worse nightmare before I even knew it.

Fantasies can turn into nightmares in a blink of an eye.