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Assessing Happiness in America

Dear Readers,

I live in a town called “Little Chicago.” North Platte, Nebraska. Here there is at least one suicide a week. A meth lab recently blew up. We have drugs all over. There is violence, and even murder. Heard of the Ochoa case? Alisha Ochoa was fifteen years old, She and her “Emotionally, Physically, and sexually abusive.” Boyfriend murdered her mother, and four year old little sister. She is now out of jail and not ever going back. Her boyfriend got one count of first degree murder. ( Her mother. ) And one count of aiding and abetting a murder. How can you aid and abet a person who apparently never did anything? Fifty years ago, we had a man who beat, raped, and killed more than twenty five women. About ten years ago, we had a woman who killed her daughter,hid her in the basement, made her sister a slave to her, and never was caught. She died of natural causes. The other sister had escaped the home before the woman died, with the assistance of her other sister. But by the time the other sisters could save the sister she made a slave, she had so much lice in her hair, she had to shave her head. There is now a best selling book about it which made the New York Times. Every where around me; School, Work, Stores, Streets, and Homes are filled with illegal things every single day. I have never participated in any of this. I don’t hold my head high for that, because I’m not a “high and mighty person.” But, it gets hard to wake up every day and be a mature person. It’s like, “Everyone around me is doing this, why not just once?” After a while, it’s hard to assess happiness here. But, everyone is always acting wrong, why do I have to set an example? No one else is. I have two loving parents. But even though I have them and a supportive family, I don’t always really WANT TO be right. And sometimes, I can’t. I’ve never really done anything “Super Bad.” I get good grades, I am always home on curfew, I’ve never sneaked out. But still, I have a burning passion in me to do something awful. I am not a class A “good girl.” But I am definitely not a class A “bad girl.” I hear these horror stories about girls and guys who have been good all their life’s and then freaked out and went on a killing spree. I know that’s not going to be me, but I still kind of get sick of this scheduled routine. I really do try, though. I guess I’ll just have to put up with this for a while and just tune people out who say ” It’ll get better.”