AMERICA

I am an American.

At least I like to believe so, but deep down I know that I’m not.

I am an immigrant, an illegal immigrant. My parents brought me here when I was barely starting school, when long-term memories first started to develop.

I grew up here. Everything I know and have learned is here. Everything that I am familiar with is here. In America. And now I’m on the verge of becoming an adult.

But with that comes something very scary for me - a job. It isn’t the fact that I have to work, it's actually trying to find a job. Most job applications ask for one thing that scares me the most: a Social Security number. This 9 digit series of numbers is something I wish, day after day, that I had.

But I don’t. I’m not an American.

Because of this, becoming an adult is something scary. How will I earn money? Do I lie and put in random numbers? I don’t like to lie - especially with something like that - but if I did lie I could get a job that I would like. One where I’m not exploited or treated like less than others. One where my knowledge and skills can be used.