Dear America,

Below, is a letter to my country, my generation, my parent's generation, and my leaders. 

Dear America, 

I'm twenty years old, red hair, green eyes, average height, average weight, very white. I'm a typical twenty you see.  I "tweet," I "Pin," I work, I dream, I do normal stuff. I fear getting enough hours at work so that I may pay my bills. I was failed by the school system, and myself, to learn how to properly study and test. I check the news daily, waiting for the headlines that say we're entering massive wars that could be wagering my future.

But America why do I do that? Why do I fear that?

Because my leaders gave my parents generation a pat on the back for giving my generation trophies. 

I fall in the gap, I caught the beginning of the trophy stage and narrowly escaped a poor mentality. I was blessed with parents who want to see their child succeed. But they also want to see me work for it.
But anyone younger than me has been failed.
They can get away with arguing with a teacher if their parents call the school. They can get away with cyberbullying. They can get away with calling a fellow student fat. Hell, they could get away with murder. All because they are "Expressing their self."
America, please, do yourself a favor and throw out the trophies. Tell your child no, no it is not okay to throw your ice cream on the ground. No it is not "silly" that your son did that. No it is not okay that your eight year old who looks like a linebacker just ordered a large meal because you didn't want to "hurt his feelings." Dear God it is not okay to tell a cop he cannot have his weapon on him, because you are sixteen and believe that we should have "peace." Because without that cop I can assure your sixteen year old macho self would be a lot more afraid.

To my leaders, why do you think other countries mock us?
Why do you think so few fear us?
We do nothing but export idiocy. You hand out welfare like the trophies, and proudly too. You provide nothing but insecurity. 

I fear not having a job field when I graduate.  I fear not being able to live the "American Dream," because there won't be an American dream to have. It will be stripped of us, just like the rest of our individuality. 

Dearest America, I don't expect you to write back.  If you do, don't worry, you won't hurt my feelings. 'Cause my skin is tougher then some lame plastic trophy. 

Oh how I do love you my America, but it is time for some change. REAL CHANGE. To my generation, step up and be what we need to shape the next. 

Love always, 

Taylor O'Kane