Labelled

Don't label me.

Don't put me in a box with all the others; don't force me to conform to what you say to be true. Don't tell me my beliefs and my values based on the colour of my skin and the clarity in my eyes.

Don't assume I'm who you think I am just because it's the first description that came to mind. Don't judge me because you're confused by first impressions.

Don't confine me to one or two categories of personality simply because you lack the imagination to see all that I am. Don't restrict me to twenty lines or less of iambic pentameter and then tell me I'm not brilliant enough.

Don't expect me to be Shakespeare.

Don't expect me not to be.

Don't look at me through your rose coloured glasses and become disappointed when my vibrant personality blinds you. Don't be shocked by the colour of my lipstick, or my lack thereof. Don't be astonished if I wear no makeup at all.

Don't tell me that my sexuality should not be shown in public; don't tell me that who I am in bed has no bearing on who I am at work. Don't deny me the beauty of my imperfect body because it isn't all that you're looking for.

Don't give me shit because my pants are too baggy, my shirt is too long, and my hair is too unruly. Don't ask me to put on a skirt, pull my hair back, and a skimpy, sexy shirt. Don't play semantics with my internal monologue.

Don't reject me because I'm not your idea of perfection.

Don't reject me because I am.

Don't embrace my thoughts and ideas because they seem to be popular, but do not, do not push me away if my beliefs astonish you. Don't put me in a box with all the others.

Don't label me.