Orange

Sometimes I feel like a black umbrella on a hot August night. Sometimes I feel like a Polaroid camera among Instax Minis. Other times, I feel like the last loaf of bread on a bakery shelf that no one buys. But that's okay.

Sometimes I get a feeling that they don't welcome me with open arms. Sometimes I get a feeling that all the things they've said to me are just pretend, for laughs. Other times, I get a feeling that I'm just around to be a punching bag; to be overlooked and underappreciated and eventually thrown under a bus heading to Savannah. But I'm okay.

Because at the end of the day, none of this matters. Someday, it'll fade to gray and the movie that is society will begin rolling credits. I don't care what they think, because I know that if I put their comments behind me and try hard enough, my name will be cascading down the screen.