My parents came to this country in pursuit of something greater, something unheard of in their home country of Guatemala; opportunity. Their journey meant something greater to them than I will ever understand. Greater than wearing disguises in Mexico, greater than being deported by the Federales on their first try, greater than having to cross rivers, lakes, and oceans with only the clothes on their backs. They sacrificed so much for me and my siblings, children they hadn't even thought about having yet. Among those sacrifices was the time they spent with me. I never really got to see my parents all that much throughout my childhood. Now as a 19 year old, I understand why, but the repercussions have always stayed with me. I was constantly surrounded by the mentality that, as a Hispanic, I will always have to work twice as hard to prove my worth, and I'm not allowed to complain or stop working until I fall onto my bed for 4-5 hours a night before it starts all over again. None of this was even expressed through words. I could see it in the bags under their eyes, and now, I see it in their fragile bodies starting to fall apart as their age slowly creeps up on them. I plead with them sometimes, asking them to take a break, to stop thinking about work for at least a second, and most of the time, all I am met with is a pat on the back and a "Todavia no mijo, hay mucho que hacer." Sometimes, I battle with my own thoughts. I want to be just a regular teen moving through the world at the beat of my own drum. I want to party, to go have fun, to be reckless, occasionally. At the same time, I know that I have to work those two jobs, I have to focus on my education, I have keep the weight of my responsibilities from crushing me long enough for my parents to see me achieve everything they wanted me to from the moment they crossed that border. I'm just tired. I want a break. I want to get away. I want my family to stop for a day and just take in our surroundings, to appreciate what we've built, and laugh for at least a little while. Lord knows they've earned it. My cards were dealt. Whether they were good or not, I'll never truly know because there are so many people worse off than I am. When the world has battered and bruised not only me and my family, but my people, it fuels my anger at the injustice of it all. I want to scream at the world to cut us some slack. On those days, I have to remind myself that words alone are not enough. I have to prove it. I have to show the world that even at my lowest point, I still have my parents beliefs within me to guide me. It might not be a straight line to success, but Mama didn't raise a quitter. I wasn't born in an ideal life, but I was born a builder. It's in my blood. If I wasn't given the life I wanted, then I'm going to build it. Even if I don't get to relish in my constructs in this life, I'll leave them for the generations after me to enjoy. Once I do that, I can finally rest.