you're so yellow.

Now Playing: Yellow by Coldplay (hahaha. Appropriate.)

I remember when I was little, when we called peach coloured pencils 'skin colour'. I remember picking it up, to colour in a picture and I was like 'What the hell? No. This is not skin colour. If it was, it would be multicoloured'.

Oh, I was a philosophical one. At four. At fourteen I failed philosophy.

Since then, though, I've never thought that much about my skin tone. I mean, as much as I rant about rampant racism in our society and joke that I have to bleach my skin before going back to Korea (it's true. Everyone there is whiter than snow. Although in Seoul that is not hard) I forget that I look different to all my white friends - and, yes, most of my friends are white. It's just not something I'm self conscious about, you know? I'm self conscious about my scars and my tummy and my acne and how absurdly huge my ears are. But I'm yellow and I forget that sometimes. When I look at myself in the mirror I just think that's just how people are supposed to look like.

I only remember if someone makes a joke involving yellow and my friends might point out that I might find that offensive. I never think of it that way - I don't associate yellow with me and therefore yellow with offensive. Slitty eyes and ching chong, yes, but not yellow. Other people actually find it more offensive than I do - white people, mostly, standing up for me. I guess there are only so many jokes you can make about peach coloured pencils.

Now that I'm forced off my lazy ass to take public transport, I take the train home with my friend. One day we had both ripped off our tights (it isn't as seedy as it sounds, I swear) and we just noticed...damn, she's white. And damn, I'm yellow.

Does it bother me that I'm not the same colour as peach pencils? No. But it's weird that I never forget that I'm Asian, but I always forget that I'm...otherwise coloured.

This blog post made no sense. I'm sorry.