The kids on the playgroud told me I wasn't right. The Caucasians say my skin was to dark, and the to African Americans my skin was to light, and being 10 years old you don't understand. You can never comprehend how they can be so shallow and ignorant. Then you end up meeting all of their parents. You get awkward stares from across the room and no one dares to talk to you or even attempts to give you a gentle smile. All you can do is hold your parent's hand and hope that Time will have mercy on you and go by quickly. Time may have tried it's best to go by as fast as possible, but the stares and glares seemed to make it drag on. I was ashamed and felt naked as I sat with my mother who was as white as the classroom walls she seemed to blend in. It was as if I was the sin that everyone seemed to hate and begged to stone. So I sat in the classroom , alone. Never talking to anyone and wearing oversized sweaters trying to hide my skin. Because to them, I was a sin.