On Ivy Day we learned that not everyone can hope.
We learned that most of us are going to spend our lives worrying about paying off our student loans. Or someday putting our own kids through college.
Or paying off our mortgages.
Or retiring and not have to work at Wal-Mart.
We the people who work 9-5 jobs every day hoping our kids get into a good enough school so that they will be able to finally reach that goddamned American dream Fitzgerald loved to write about.
We the forgotten children of the American Republic.
We the beaten, broken, and damned.
We the unprivileged, whose children will never see Paris or Rome, will never go to Harvard, and will become content working 9-5 jobs hoping their kids get into a good enough school.
We who have long since forgotten how to sing America.
We who will never sing America.
Through the tear-gas soaked streets of Washington or through a ballot. I will have justice.
Midknight Hobo. American Romulus. The Grand Inquisitor.
I defiantly hope.
I still sing America.
I will never lose hope.
I will reach that American dream.
What Would I Change?
I would change the fact that my mother can barely meet her mortgage.
I would change the fact that the poor stay poor and the rich get richer.
I would change the fact that rich old white men lie about caring about U.S. Commoners
I'm going to change politics.
I'm going to change their politics. Their lies. Their false claims of hoping.
They don't know what it is like to hope.
It's time they learned.
Watch out everyone. American Romulus is coming.
They had best hope I don't make it.