1 Percent of RealityThis cant be real.If this is real, there is no god, no heaven, no purgatory, no reincarnation, no evolution.Just hell.The walls are etched with the psychotic signatures of a multitudeSigned in fear and blood and vomit, sealed with hopelessness.Let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me outThe stains on the mattress are maps of a thousand fucked-up minds.Im lost here anyway, even those who have degrees are crazier than me.And if the doors dont unlock soon, Ill just be another stain,Another file folder closed, another prescription cancelled.Everything is broken, shattered, beaten,So why are the walls still standing?There is no second without drugs or questions or filth or fear or cameras or blood or crying or rocking or screaming or fighting or locked doors
O god, oh goddess, oh man and womankind, what I would give to get out of here.What I would give to see this asylum fall.This is all too real.
Other: Please SpecifyA few days ago, I took the Practice SAT, and was hit with a wave of bizarre yet very much expected deja vu. I am a student enrolled in the public school system of the United States, and as such I have taken many, many, many standardized tests in my time. This is no surprise, as it is an experience that I share with a large slice of the country's population. The surprise is the way that my views on these tests have changed.This is not an essay extolling or condemning standardized testing - that is a complex subject that I have no desire to discuss. The part of the tests that brings up the most emotion for me is not a test of the type of knowledge usually associated with little bubbles marked A, B, C, and D. This is about the standardization of human gender identity.Ever since elementary, I've had a vague fondness for the calming nature of filling in circles with soft grey graphite, lamenting that the stress of being scored negates so much of that effect. Naturally, my favorite part of