RiCh GiRl

There’s a story, it’s like a standard thing, about rich girls, or just rich kids in general. We don’t know anything about life because we were born with silver spoons in our mouths and we don’t have to look any further than what we have because to us, we are the world. I’m not poor, even though I’m not totally loaded, my dad doesn’t abuse my mom and my parents aren’t divorced. I don’t do drugs, or go clubbing or drink. I don’t even smoke, I’m just an average kid who doesn’t do anything accept live in her own rich-girl world.

This is the way it seems, all the time, every minute of everyday, there’s no escape from the cold truth. I don’t matter because I don’t make a difference in the world. I can’t even make a difference in my own class, how would I be able to change the world? The shameful truth is that as much as I want to do something, to be someone, I’ve gotten sucked into a world I swore I’d never enter and it’s almost impossible to escape.

For the fifteen years I’ve lived on this earth I’ve got nothing to show for them, maybe an article, a failed newspaper and a activist club that refuses to take off, but those aren’t successes, they aren’t even attempts. They’re just excuses for something I never once had the courage to even try and accomplish. And I hate it.