inaurata lingua

a n i m a l

I didn't have a word for it until just now.

The feeling I'd get as pale-skinned, long-haired girls would reach their bony hands to my head and pet me.

I didn't know what to think as their nails caught in my curls.

Should I be flattered at "funky" and "freaky"?

Why wasn't I happy with "so cool" or "awesome"?

I mean, I've been complimented before,  and I know how it feels. That warm, pleasantly surprised feeling-this wasn't it.

This was an ickiness in my bones, a feeling of discomfort, even of hurt.

I felt like a wild animal roaming the halls alongside domesticated creatures who were white and beautiful and who didn't know what to say when they saw my out of place stripes and spots.