This is the girl that lives so many so many miles away. That I used to see when I would go to my grandma�s house in colorado. We�d go to the gardens (the big amusement park) and go swimming. I remember one time she came over and we sat in the basement and talked for a long time. I was disappointed; I had no respect for people who did drugs or alcohol. It was wrong, distasteful. Incomprehensible. I just remember her little punk attitude. This is the girl who I exchanged letters with. Pages and pages and pages, of all her boyfriends and lots of questions about me. she always initiated everything, really. This is the girl who Ims me in bright pink font and is just dying to listen, who fills out her profile with lots of inside jokes. This is the girl that makes me sad, leaves me feeling strange. Strange in that I furrow my brow because I don�t think of myself like this. You can skip this next paragraph:

[I don�t think of me like she thinks of me. it makes me think of the closed circles I live in, makes me open up my journal from jamaica. It makes me think of how in gov class, people make blanket statements about �people� and �the poor� and they don�t know what the fuck they�re talking about. those blanket statements/ you either get suffocated in assumptions or are left in the desolate cold. It makes me hate this routine of school and sports and work, weekends and then school again; just that that/s what there is��. Forever? Because unless I die before i/m twentysix������.]

What made me write this is an email from her, one of the surveys people send back and forth. She writes;

"If you could have one wish what would it be? I wish i could have more money, and be smarter. I really look up to non stuck up wealthy people. They are really civilized, and people who go for all they can when it comes to education. Katie, i admire you tons babe!! ;-) You come to mind when i just said that."

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