By Malcolm Rivera / South Kern Sol
I’m going to relate a story from my past to you. But before I do, I have to ask a couple things from you, reader.
First, don’t pity me. I don’t want your pity.
And second, please learn something from my story.
I used to live the American Dream. You know the one I’m talking about. The picturesque scene everyone envisions in their mind: the big house with the big yard, complete with all the amenities that you might expect to find inside.
And of course there was my perfect family. Dad went to work every day to bring home the bacon. Mom stayed at home taking care of me and doing general housework. As for myself, I attended private school and impressed my teachers on a fairly regular basis.
But as it would turn out, my American Dream was just that. A dream. A fake. A phony. A lie.
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