Dear World,
I'm sorry.
How else am I to say it? I'm not the ideal being, I don't belong. There's a void where I think my emotion should be. I've opened the void, and now there's no going back... eventually I'll just be consumed by it.
I do have aspirations, dreams, life goals. But what do they matter to that person sitting next to me in our musty high school, their butt aching, too, from the hard and uncomfortable seat? They have aspirations, dreams, life goals. Do I care? Not at all. Do they care? I'm not them, I don't know.
But there's a chance that they do care, and that you, World, will care about what I have to say.
195 unique countries. Yet in one particular country, we can't seem to get along at all. We have to fit into the perfectly made boxes that society tells us is what we want. Are they us? No. Do they know? No. The truth is, all of us are different, whether culturally, intellectually, spiritually, morally, or in any other fashion. We are not the same, so why are we trying to act like we are? If we indeed are the same, if we indeed belong to that clique, that category, that sect, then why can't one country's people belong to their country? Must we always look at race as a boundary? Must we always look at indenitification as something different? Must we shame people for their body, when they aren't the ones at fault? Must this world be more complicated, more dramatic, more problematic because of the perfectly made boxes put out by society? Can we not accept each other for who they are, and disregard race and background and sexuality?
I am a number in a census. The single count that changes a nine to a ten, adding another weight to the scale. I've never been recognized publicly, and perhaps that's a good thing. Perhaps, perhaps it is. But it might not be a good thing. Every life is the same, all are equal, no one should be given more than the other. But the world we live in says otherwise, imposing status and wealth to further meddle with the already complicated lives of the human race. Special people get recognized, right? Smart people, beautiful people, funny people, even sick people. I'm that person in your high school who is smart, but not the valedictorian. Decent-looking, but not the prom queen. Funny, but not the class clown. Hell, I have genetic illnesses, yet I'm not the sickest. I'm just there, overlooked.
World, we need to change this environment we live in. The value of every life is the same. Every bisexual, every straight, every Hispanic, every white, every bum, every king, every conservative, every liberal. We are all one people, and this is the only thing I can find in myself, except for that void that will eventually tear me apart. It's what I stand for.
Love, RachelWitthauer
(Nobody)
