“Get in the real world” you say – as if I’ve been living in a fake one up until now. You may think the only place where problems can be solved is in a math book But even those take time and thinking before finding the right solution. So just because my so called “problem” doesn’t make logical sense on paper means I can’t have the time to figure it out? I’m up for a challenge. And who said the easy way out was the correct answer anyway? Just because the calculator says so doesn’t mean it is true. In fact, you were the first person to tell me that – helping me with my second grade math homework. I tried using a calculator as an “easy way out” only for you to tell me that calculators lie. Well maybe the reason I hate math so much is because growing up, numbers made your eyebrows one straight line across your forehead. Did you ever think that maybe I don’t want to put lines through my S’ because I like the way they look without them? That dumb pathetic line just ruins everything. It brings restriction and arguing and crushed hopes and aspirations. Without it, it inspires, dreams, creates. Maybe in your dictionary the word “life” begins with the word “money”, but in my book it begins with the word “me”. Maybe the number 1 isn’t valuable to you but to me it’s the number of chances I get to live and I’m not about to screw it up just because you’re worried I won’t make it. So what if I don’t? I tried didn’t I? Isn’t that what you always told me to do? Try? Oh wait… No… That wasn’t you – I must have gotten my dreams and reality confused. It must have been my made up version of you – the one that would tell me to shoot for the stars and not regret a thing. The one that would tell me that you only live once so live while you can! The one that would make sure that I, me, your daughter, not your piece of property, was truly happy and not balling her eyes out helpless and confused and hurt. Maybe the fact that the rest of the family would go into lock down, hiding like cowards in our rooms when the credit card bills came in the mail is the reason I hate money so much. The way you would morph into some sort of ungodly beast that would tear the head off of anyone who dare disturb you is the reason the word finances sends chills up my spine. My body goes cold when I stand in line at the grocery check-out and mom pulls out the credit card. I go cold because I know the consequences of that stupid piece of plastic. The fighting, the yelling, and the stress that follows that graceful swipe – it’s not worth it. I’d rather go hungry. Banks and dollar signs scare me – Almost as much as the beast inside you. They haunt my dreams of being who I am and who I want to be. I dream of running but I go nowhere because I’m trapped between the folds of pieces of green paper. You fail to recognize me. When you look into my blood shot teary eyes you feel nothing. You see giant green ugly S’s with freaking lines through them like prison bars. You fail to see my passions, my desires, my dreams. You fail to see me – and even a new pair of glasses won’t do you any good. You will always fail to see me.