Monologue.

Every year, exactly a month after my birthday my mom is exactly seventeen years older than me. So, your mom has you as a teenager and immediately you’re a statistic. There’s NO possible way, you can have a good and successful life, you’re going to be dumb, barely make it through high school, and even have to have been pregnant at least once before you get out of high school. Of course, when I was a kid, none of this fazed me, and then somewhere around the age of eight I started to realize how people saw me. I can still remember this one time, I was 12 when my aunt saw me with a guy in my neighborhood. I went home and my mom said me what I had done that day, I told her I was went with my friend to 7/11 and she told me be careful what you do and hat you see because apparently some members of my family automatically assumed I was having sex with him. How wonderful. Cause I’m not just 12 years old right? But still, much to their dismay, I graduated from high school in the top percentage of my class, and didn’t get pregnant. But still, on my 18^th birthday I was on the phone with my grandmother, and she asked me if my mom was back in school and said yeah, and she says to me, “oh that’s good at least she’ll be providing you with motivation to go to school. “And I was so shocked; it seemed no matter what I did, I would always be a statistic, doomed for failure. As if, all that I accomplished up until that point, never happen. But its okay, because I’m going to continue to prove them wrong and all their ignorance is just more fuel for my own self-motivation.