Broken Opportunities

Imagine this. Seventeen year old girl, Staring into a world of glass, mascara dripping down porcelain skin like raindrops. Where does the future lead? Her question lingers in the air, swarming with wingless moths and butterflies. No money for senior year. Can’t seem to grasp why her life is worse than Cinderella’s. Maybe Cinderella had it better than most ordinary girls, living in a world of mass destruction and endless opportunities. But she’s just a seventeen year old girl, Wanting to further her education. Money doesn’t grow on trees. Leaves don’t bloom into paper with dead presidents staring at you with solemn expressions. If only there was a way, A scholarship for a broke, intelligent, black girl like her. She dreams of big places, far away faces where she can capture Brazilian tans and azure eyes like the Pacific Ocean with her camera. If only, she says. If only.