I am.

October 11, 2009
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I walk through the doors, losing my free liberties, but forced to learn about them
I walk down halls which entice me, locking me inside the building.
I walk for days at time in my dreams, searching for something greater.
I must ask before I use the bathroom, ask before I share ideas
I must eat in an allotted time, walk fast enough for their liking, and comprehend seven different matters of the world in one day
I must not question authority, simply abide by their rules.
I must follow their examples, but not ask for the same freedoms.
I must pass their exams, their proof of education.
I cannot express my creativity nor individuality, for they have already passed out the guidelines.
I cannot ask for another day to complete the science assignment, even if I had to stay up until dawn the study for the math test, which will determine my future.
I cannot change the font of my english essay, even if times new roman makes my eyes bleed.
I cannot round the numbers off to two decimal places, even if my calculator exploded and won't tell me the answer
I cannot ask why the president of the social justice movement looked like a girl, that would be disrespectful.
I cannot mix two random substances and create a cure for cancer, for they are locked up because of people like me.
I am begging for something new to learn about, something that captures my heart.
I am searching for an outlet for my creative veins, my imagination.
I am losing my inner child, the person who tells me it's okay to have fun and color outside the lines.
I am competing with six billion other teenagers across the world, praying I have enough knowledge stuffed inside me.
I am no longer me.
I am an american student.

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