Written on 12/20/96

In 12/96, I did not consider myself a writer. I was still just journaling, not writing for publish. Here is what I wrote:

12/20/96

Groping, grasping, trying to find our places in the world. Conform Freak. What's wrong with you? Can't get a job

got a job

can't keep a job

Economic conditions

No place to call home. On a park bench

sometimes you feel like a motherless child

the world was tough

the world is tough

you ain't crazy you livin' in America

sometimes we can't understand each other

so different yet so similar

we have a common bond

we are the voices

of those who have no voice

we will love each other

and it will be just enough

we will grow

together

as it was meant to be

constantly challenged to higher bounds

like the stars in the sky

we're gonna make a difference

cuz everybody needs a reason to live