Amy MarkezThe Journal of Amy Markez
By: Leah Reed
As I walked through the street, I saw papers sprawled everywhere; I picked one up and felt the hairs on my neck rise. It read:
(change in font) All I could feel was my life on my shoulders. My mom wasnt proud of my brother no matter how hard he worked or how good his school papers were; she needed more from him. She needed it to be a perfect speech, she needed him to go get a good job, not just be a small business owner like she was. She wanted more from him. I knew thats what she would want from me, too. I saw her face furious with me because I didnt want what she had: perfect grades, top cheerleader at her school, a boyfriend she fell in love with at first sight (then married), or even the perfect roommate for college. How would I tell her? How could I tell her?
(change back)I knew how she felt; thats how I felt. I had grown up thinking Ill be like my mom. Ill think like her, look like her, love like