Once upon a time, I lost my grip on reality. I spent years with my head in the clouds, dreaming of a life I could not have. I fell in love with people I'd never met, became attached to places I'd never been. I waited for the impossible to happen- for those dreams to become a reality.
     One day I realized I would be waiting forever. What had started off as daydreams became so real to me, and I wondered every day when my "real" life would start. I accepted that if this continued I would live a dismal, unfulfilled, life, unable to become attached to anyone or really live. I couldn't go on like this. 

America

Land of the free

But not to those with melanin in their skin

Not to the ones who were ripped from their homes and brought to an alien country

Not to those who come here in search of a better life

Those beautiful people

All shades of brown

These people you isolate

You oppress them with your words and actions

When we are killed you silence your ears and turn your backs

You kill our men and boys

Rape our girls and women

You make us out to be monsters when it was your ancestors who stole us from our beds

America

This country of paper promises

When a black boy is the victim of police brutality you ask

“What did he do to provoke the officer”

When a black boy is caught doing something he shouldn’t

You condemn our whole race

The heat was suffocating; I could feel my insides boiling. Outside in the horrible weather, the was a young girl named Gabby who was in line for a lemonade stand. It was almost her turn, but the guy in front of her was paying in all pennies. Not only was the guy paying in pennies but he was counting them out one by one, goodness that was annoying.
"Hey, can you hurry up please!" She said trying to will him to go faster with her voice
"Sorry," The man says defensively 
The man was annoying Gabby, and she just wanted to get her lemonade. She got an idea all of a sudden and hoped it would work.
"Do you want help? It would go faster" Gabby suggested
The man looked at her and seemed to study her and see if he could trust her. Finally, he nodded. Gabby moved to him and helped him count the coins and then got her lemonade after helping the man.
 

There's a field near my house that holds something big. Secrets and history and knowledge, and everything that is unknown to me. In the winter, a soft coat of snow covers it like a fluffy blanket, making it look like an endless spread of white. In the spring bright yellow daisies grow from the ground, eager to blow in the wind. I long to run through them and lie with them. In the summer, wildflowers spring from the ground, growing up towards the sun, as if they long to be let free from the confines of the soil.  In the fall the leaves float from the trees and cover the field with browns, yellows, and reds, signaling the start of winter.

Throughout history we have been fighting for equal rights. Either for our own or someone else's. Women’s Rights. African American Rights. LGBT Rights.

We recognize these movements as we see them happening all around us. We oppose or support them. We rarely stand in the middle.

As we watch these movements barrel downhill we watch people trying to spear these movements to stop them.

Destroy them before they reach the point of no return. Their criticizing comments hold us back from taking all the steps we need too.

This is why racism and sexism and homophobia and all other hate still exist.

We have heard the speeches, the comments, the subtle rebellion. We have seen all that has been done to stop these movements.

I have seen the movements. I have heard the hate. Martin Luther King Jr. had his dream, and I have mine.

What I realised after that day was that I didn't love him. Yes he is amazing and yes I know that we would work if we tried but I am just not there yet. Sure I have thought about him being there in the future, but something is always missing. There is a link that just isn't there. Yes he is amazing, exactly what everyone would say I want. But I mean, no. I can't just keep pretending that there is a real chance. That will only kill me, and him. Yes I am aware that what I am saying makes no sense, if he is perfect then what is the problem. That's just it even his bad habits aren't anything that would stop you. They just make him funny and weird and honestly they make him all that much better. Blagh, I don't even know what is happening. Or what I am saying because this doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense, why I feel like this because ... I can't stop thinking about it, him, everything. Whenever I close my eyes to sleep, I see his smile.

I have a pretty simple life. A great family: mom, dad, brother, sister. Great friends. Great activities: spring play, choir, Model UN. I’ve always been one of those people that people look up to: after all, I’m a straight A student, actually, no, I’m a straight A+ student with the occasional A. I’m successful with everything I do, and I try to be nice to everyone. But, uh, I don’t have a boyfriend. Of course, I’ve had crushes. Lots of them. I’ve texted guys, talked to guys, but I’m a generally awkward person and I’m not the prettiest one by all means. I fall into that wierd social category, and let me know if you know what I mean, where there’s the really popular pretty girls above me, and then there’s the not so popular, quiter, nerdy girls below me. So, of course the popular pretty girls all have boyfriends and the quiter, nerdy girls do to. They have their relationships with their friends. And then there’s me, in this akward place in the middle. Rung 5 on the social ladder.

One time I searched disgusting foods on Google. 
You don't want to know what I found from that search...
Anything from dog meat to fermented horse milk popped up!
I realize that other countries have different traditions and beliefs but...WOW!
If you think about it, other countries might look at our food and say eww!
So we don't really have any room to talk since our country's rate of obesity is the highest and other countries rates of obesity are lower than ours. What is that telling people? Maybe their food, which we think is disgusting, is healthier than ours.

I'm writing this because I'm sad
Because I have feelings that have to go unsaid
So I put them into a rant because it makes more sense
I don't want pitty or "I'm sorrys"
I'm not expecting them from anyone
I want somebody to read this and know how someone feels when they have no more words left in them
I've been robbed of my will to speak and my way to write things that make sense
So I'm sorry if this is confusing or hard to understand what the point is
But the truth is there is no point in a long venting piece about my feelings
All of my writing seems like a jumble of words and sentences put together
Like a jigsaw puzzle that has lost a piece over time that nobody has bothered to look for
And since a picture is worth a thousand words
My feelings can go unsaid and this rant will paint the picture
I guess I'm not writing this because I'm sad