How It Feels to Be Colored Me

There was a boy I knew, his name was Patrick he and I were friends, rode bikes and played together. Patrick lived in a yellow house with brown trim, his mother had many plants in front of the house, Patrick was very tall for his age long limbs pale white skin, and bleach blond hair that looked like snow, freckles on his cheeks and a  big smile with shiny braces. He liked to run and exercise allot always jogging around the neighborhood with his father in a blue sleeveless shirt, with white-silver shorts with a blinding gold necklace and diamond earrings. Sometimes his dog would run with him I don't know what type of dog it was but had white and brown fur and stood around a person's hip with pointed ears like something was going to sneak up on him.
I think these images gelled in my head because I was always outside and would see him routinely run around the neighborhood  and his hair was so much different from anyone I had seen at that age, also it could had been  how I was paranoid about his dog. I really couldn't tell you why I remember these details about Patrick.