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Classy
and deliciously sweet! Fiona Apple meets Martha Wainwright in a blender
with a goofy side.
When I was 14, my dad sold our house, quit his job, and my family and I
moved to Honduras to become missionaries. It gave me an excuse to hate my
parents like most teenagers; but, looking back, I realize that it forced
me to grow up at a young age and to see the ‘real’ real life.
Being the only American family for miles and
living behind razor wire in the middle of the jungle allowed me to hear
myself think. No longer was I in my comfort zone and no longer could I pay
attention to what Britney Spears was wearing or who was dating whom.
Part of me is still that American teenager who
knows the Starbucks menu by heart and purposely tears holes in my jeans to
be ‘cool.’ The other part of me is over in a third world country
giving rice to kids with swollen tummies.
Everyone needs an outlet for their emotions and it
is a shame that there are so many harmful ‘outlets’ available. Writing
is such a quiet protest that it is sometimes overlooked. I write because I
know there are thousands of ‘I'm the only ones’ out there. I write to
prove them wrong.
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city: La Mirada
state: CA
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