when you see me, a girl with tan skin but her parents are black and white, what do you think?

do you instantly assume that my dad wasn't there? if you do, you'd be correct. do you think about whether or not i've witnessed violence? in and outside of the home? if you do, you'd be correct. do you think that i had to help with the bills because my single mother couldn't scavenge enough money to pay them by herself and no one would help her? if you do, you'd be correct.

truth is, i've never even considered being the definition of a stereotype. ever. people have always called me a "half-breed", a "*******", and infamously a "******" even though the hard r wasn't always pronounced. i've never been offended by their words though, my mom has taught me to have tougher skin than that.

i've always been a stereotype, though. i guess in some people's eyes that's all i am. a young girl living up to her background.

but the thing is, i know that i'm worth more than their insults, assumptions, thoughts, and doubts. i'm going to be more than a stereotype one day. mark my words.

This is a story about a lovely young girl who's in the woods dancing with the snow flakes.
Her arms are up in the air moving along with breeze.
She’s bare foot in her favorite blue dress, but she not cold, she’s peaceful lite with her thoughts.
Suddenly a gust of wind changes the young girl's mood bring a frost to her breath that chokes her with fear.
  A ere black figure brings a darkest filling the woods, and it had its eyes on the young girl.
Tears run down her rosy cheeks, and she starts to run towards the trees that are as tall as the sky.
The black figure covers its face, and leads with its hands with sharp long disguising nails.
  She can't seem to out run the scary black figure that it eventually brings a sense of hopelessness to the young girl fueling the monster’s black figure even more.
Hopelessness won; as the black figure screams it pierces the young girl’s ears.
It lunges its sharp long disgusting nails towards the girl ripping through the young girl's favorite blue dress, and flesh with such hatred for it is jealous of the young girl's innocence .
The young girl is trying to cover her face screaming for her life, but no one can hear them.
It’s hopeless the young girl is laying in the woods alone with the black figure; blood is dripping down her chest turning this once white snow red.
  The black figure has done its job, it waits for the young girl's soul to slowly leave her body, and into the palms of the hands of the black figure.
As she lays there she takes her mind back to her dancing in the snow, and how peaceful she felt.
Blood fills her lungs she tries to cough it all out, as she takes in her last breathe.
The young girl body dies, but a patch of white flowers grow every year where the young girl body once laid.
Warning us to watch out for the black figured monster it may just rip your soul out.