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Identity Archive

AI: Awfully Indomitable, By Shima

Aimee's Journal, By Aimee

Anna, By Pamela K. 

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By Shima, Age 18

In the world of the common teenager, a conflict exists between the child’s right to independence versus the parent’s right to protection. Independence is a highly prized and sought after goal by many a person, but just how independent do we think we are?

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By Allie

“I guess we should get her a helmet for the pool,” my dad said to break the silence that permeated his rusty old maroon station wagon. With me bundled up in the back seat, my parents and I were on our way home from a consultation with yet another doctor. Two hours earlier we had sat in a doctor’s office as he told them that I would not be a “normal” child and that I would never be able to go to the beach, read, and certainly never play sports. I like to think that I have acquired my parents’ indomitable attitude towards adversity. I have been discouraged, made fun of, stared at, and ignored because I have albinism.

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By Pamela K., Age 19

Slightly curved

protruding blue veins,

like rivers,

wind their way among the

withered and swollen hills

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By Franchesca, Age 16


I know you feel cold,

and alone inside.

The drama you went through,

and questions “Why?”

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By Jessica B.

The lights are down. My heart is pounding. I stand on the stage, perfectly still, waiting. The curtains open, and the music finally starts. I should start, but I freeze instead. My mind is racing. "What are the steps? I should know this; I’ve been practicing this forever. I can’t mess up now." Then it happens. The music pulsates through my spine. I start dancing, escaping reality, and becoming a person that exists most vividly as I dance.

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By Gabriela, Age 21

What is Up? Some days I cannot shake the fact that I should be doing more for humanity and it produces in me a peculiar anxiety that is hard to calm. On good days, it can result in a surge of momentum and I make blueprints for my future in making things a little better. On bad days like today, though, I feel the need for distraction, so I sit at my computer and open iTunes. I peer over my shoulder and make sure that I am alone. I am. Then I let myself be hypnotized by the lullaby of glossy colors and little waists, by the mobile of changing fonts on the constant white background.

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By Sreeja K., Age 11

One rainy, stormy day, I sat looking out my window. The clouds were dark and gray, as lightning flashed every few minutes. As I sat, tired and bored, my eyes fell upon two little boys. One was about six years old, holding a small, black umbrella with a few bent spokes. The other was about four, hugging the older one and saying, “What are we going to do?” The older one said, “Don’t worry, little brother, we’ll find someone to take us in.” He was smiling at his brother, but at the same time, tears were pouring down his face.

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By Catharine D., Age 21

Like any high school student, I wanted a summer job that would make me a lot of money, and fast. I had accepted a job to work part time as a waitress, but my measly salary of $6 an hour was not enough and was probably illegal and considered slave labor. I had been asked to baby-sit for a few families, but it seemed as though they all wanted me at the same time during the week days. Thus, I came up with the solution to start my own play school.

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By Rebecca Z., Age 21

It was always assumed that I would go to college. I grew up in a community where most kids go to college. I remember being in middle school and someone telling me “this is when it starts to count” – that colleges would care what I did in middle school. Just to clarify, no one ever sees your middle school transcripts or talks to those teachers.

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