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My Dream Job

I don’t want to be a basketball player

just because I’m tall. I can’t even aim.







I don’t want to be a tattoo artist

just because I like to draw. I can’t even draw that well.


I don’t want to be an auctioneer

just because I talk fast. Auctioneers annoy me.






I don’t want to sell makeup or design clothes

just because I’m a girl. I don’t even wear makeup.



I don’t want to be a preacher

just because I’m Christian. A lot of preachers seem to think they’re better than everyone else.









I don’t want to be a doctor

just because I like to take care of people. I puke every time I see guts and doctors creep me out.

I don’t want to decorate houses

just because I like to decorate my dollhouse. I would have to decorate it the way the clients would want it.

I don’t want to be a comedian

just because I post things on Facebook from other websites that make people laugh. It’s not like I think of this stuff myself.

I don’t want to be an English teacher

just because I’m good with grammar and spelling.

























My older sister thinks I should do something with my height because I’m taller than her and basketball is apparently the only thing she can think of; my friend Alissa thinks I draw well and should be a tattoo artist like her aunt and uncle; my uncle can’t understand a word I say, like auctioneers; Alissa’s ex-friend Kelsey thinks every girl should do something girly and the boys should do all the hard work; my grandmother thinks I should decorate houses because all of her favorite shows are home decorating; my little sister thinks I should be a preacher because I like to talk and we’re Christian; I don’t remember who said they wanted me to be a doctor, but it was because I love being responsible and taking care of things; one of my mom’s ex boyfriends thought I should be a comedian because I posted funny pictures from a website on Facebook; and I thought once that I should be an English teacher because someone told me writers didn’t make a lot of money.

But now I don’t care if writers don’t make money. I don’t want to be a teacher. Being a teacher just wouldn’t fit me. Most teachers seem to only care about the rules, and they teach things that don’t really have anything to do with anything, and I would have to decorate the classroom the way the school wanted it, or not at all.
















My mom is the only one who agrees with me about being a writer, because she thinks you should let your kids be whatever they want (unless it’s something horrible, like a stripper or a prostitute or a terrorist). When I was little, I wanted to be a freaking mermaid, but she said, “Cool, but you’re gonna have to go through a lot of surgery.”







I don’t know if every teen on Teenink wants to be a writer, but I do and no one is going to change my mind. Thank you for reading.



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