Living the dream

November 25, 2010
By Joycileena SILVER, South San Francisco, California
Joycileena SILVER, South San Francisco, California
7 articles 1 photo 2 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Our love is like the wind, you can't see it, but you can feel it."

I looked at myself in the mirror. I was a teenager, a young teenager with dreams for the future. I gazed at my unperfect body. Pimples of my forehead, damaged hair, bony body. As I looked at my face, I remembered exactly seven years ago, aged six. I was an adventurous child. I stared at my unperfectness. Then I heard my name being yelled loudly. My mother bellowed even louder the second time. Walking across the hallway to meet my fate, i tripped over my mother's shoes. Falling right on my face, I heard my mother laugh at me, continuing to watch t.v. Suddenly, she stopped laughing, throwing a book at me. Relizing it was my journal, i began to tear. It was my secret journal. I never wanted anybody to see it. I wrote about my thoughts of becoming a writer.
" did you find this?"
"It was under you're bed, with all you're other useless junk. A writer, eh? Bullcrap. That will get you nowhere in life. You will never become famous or even close to famous."
I took a deep breath and put my journal down.
"Mom, listen to me. Im going to be a writer, whether you like it or not. My wish is not to become famous, but to inspire many people in my writings. I want to be a change in the world and be different than my family. I dont want to be a doctor or engineer, like my cousins. I want to be free, different from everybody else. If you cant accept me the way I am, then I will not call you my mother, and you shall not call me your daughter."
I took a look at my mother to see her eyes on fire. Her face turned a flush of dark red. Standing up really fast, she grapped my journal and pushed me out of the door, shoving my journal in my hands.
"If you think your going to be famous, then go. Your on your own now. I never want you near this house again."
Walking outside of my door, I relized I had become a real woman, not a teenager with a dream. Im a woman about to live my dream. Holding my journal, I took my first step, with my unpefect soul, into the real world.

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