The sky shimmers a deep orange, almost brown. What a strange color… There seems to be a million stars, although it’s not night. At least I don’t think it is. I’m not too sure, I don’t understand. Maybe I never will. And truthfully, I don’t feel like waiting around just to find out. But it’s not the end of the story. It’s not for any of us. Sometimes, it’s as sweet as hot, strawberry chocolate chip pancakes with a half-caffeinated iced caramel latte to wash it all down. 

But this time, I’m stuck at the bottom of the ocean with coral surrounding me on all sides. And it wraps around my ankles. Cuts deep into my skin. I can’t get out. I scream. Or at least I try to. But nothing comes out. Not even a squeak like one of brand new Converse high tops on freshly polished tiles. I look around. And I see something move swiftly through the waters. Suddenly, I’m in the Nile river with the Loch Ness Monster circling around me in an atrocious pattern. A haunting dance. I wonder if I have to slay this beast. And I do. Because although I did not invite this monster into these once calm waters, it is my duty to vanquish it. 

It doesn’t seem fair. Nothing does. Like how I can’t be as talented as my favorite singer Conan Gray, or as pretty as my favorite actress and It girl Winona Ryder. I grew up watching Ross Lynch on Austin and Ally, and set some sort of standard for myself. One that said that someone, somewhere, would choose me. And that it would all work out. That I would have someone to be the “Cara Mia” to my “Mon Cher.” We have come a long way as a society. We had our first African American president, Barack Obama. If we as an entire country can evolve into something better, why can’t I individually as well?

 I mean REALLY, is it supposed to be this difficult? I feel like I’m greeted every morning with foggy air and strong cold winds, while others get to wake up and spend another day on the sunny beaches of Hawaii. My grandmother always tells me I’m “getting so big,” as if it’s a bad thing having to watch me grow up. And to be honest, I agree. Because the older I get, the less naive I am, the more I realize that we really all need a therapist. We’re all stuck on coral at the bottom of the Nile with our own Loch Ness Monster.