She just doesn't understand why I need to write, to her the keyboard and pen is a tool, but to me it is my life. She tells me that she wishes I grew up to be different than I am, and every day I feel bad that my personality didn't follow the plan, but I can't help who I am, or what I've become. She wants me to be her little clone, a perfect student, perfect daughter, and perfect small town girl, but she doesn't understand that my dreams expand beyond the boarders of this town, of this state. She…
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Posted on June 10, 2008 at 3:00am —
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