Activity 2|Student Blogging Challenge|

This is something that I wrote at the end of seventh grade:

As I lay in the bright green grass, I can feel the peacefulness of the meadow. I can hear the many birds chirping and the bumble bees buzzing. I look up and she clouds of all shapes and sizes. But I don’t see confusion or disappointment, I don’t see responsability. I wish I never had to see it, but at least I get to appreciate the moment of peace. I soon hear faint footsteps and I realize that the real world wants me back. As the footsteps become louder and louder, I try to capture every last moment of clarity. When I can see the foot making the persistent noise, I am almost angry that I can’t just lay here forever.

“What are you doing?” asked the familiar voice, who happened to be my best friend.

“I am waiting,” I replied.

“For what?”

“I am waiting until I forget,” I said in all honestly.

“Come on,” she muttered while grabbing my arm and pulling me up.

As she drags me back to the city of disappointing daughters. I don’t know what to say to my father after I disobeyed him the way I did. All my life my father told me I had to be a doctor. My family has a long line of doctors, about 7 generations, but I do not want to be a doctor. I really want to be an artist, and I tried to explain this to my father. He says that I will be poor, but I don’t care if I am poor or rich, I will be doing what I love. Art makes me feel like I am writing a journal, it makes me feel like I am expressing myself in a way that words can’t even do.

When I finally prepare myself with reasons upon reasons of why I want to be an artist, I know that I am ready. My father will have to learn that I cannot be molded to his standard of a “perfect” daughter.

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