Hillary

January 17, 2011
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I gaze into the night sky and ponder. When colleges look at your application or anyone do they judge you right away on your name? Do you say “oh I’m Billy” and people already know they don’t like you. They know other billys before they met you. Is that fair? I glace to the floor, I hate my name.
When you are born, you are rewarded a name, there is no choosing it. Your parents may give you a name that mean cheerful hoping that you will be forever happy and full of life. Bull. You can’t give someone a name then think they will be that. It’s only a name; it’s always been just a name.
A teacher gives roll call as I hear the names roll off her tongue. I hear my name; there is no excitement, no joy, just boredom. It fixes so well with all the other. I just fads along with all the other, I hate my name.
Once you are old and everyone starts to forget you, the name begins to lose value. You will just be another one getting ready to be replaces. Once I die, there will be a hundred new hillarys and I will just be another Hillary that has past. I wish I had a different name, a remember able name.





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