by Annette Partida

Created on: October 23, 2008

The death march has begun. I still want to close my eyes. After I read the news, I threw my self on my thin Chinese mattress and tried to sort my thoughts under the covers in the pitch black. My family is in America and I am in China. My heart is in knots and I am more lost today than ever before. I got tired of the war, I grew wary over social programs being cut, I lost my voice screaming for attention of what Americans seems to slowly be waking up to. So much of me wants to turn my back on the goddamn United States of America and the 300 million used car salesmen that have no issues or qualms over killing people that try to make them uncomfortable -as Hunter S. Thompson stated it when he was alive.

I decided to keep a diary of the days to come. So that I could remember the things that made me smile in this lifetime. The smell of fresh rain hitting dirt. The romance of a lover offering to carry whatever it was that I was holding in my hands, so that he could hold mine. The smell of fresh bread and food off the stove. My best friend's laugh and my favorite Otis Redding album. Green tea how it slides down your throat and calms the soul in a world of chaos.

I read a document today that warns, those that are willing to listen, of the martial law that is to approach and swallow up the liberties of the Constitution as we know it. I barked these warnings three years ago. But people thought me a radical, people told me to calm down, and that I was wrong. But as time unravels in America, so do the lies of the government. People are losing their jobs, hopes, and futures. I saw the iceberg the U.S. Titanic was about to hit, and stole a life boat and sailed all the way to the MIddle World of Asia. I love China. I love the wilderness of life here. I enjoy the struggle, the discomfort. It makes me grow. It makes me appreciate my wits and what any human being is capable of. We should all be so lucky and grateful in this life.

I called my mom and younger brother today. They live in California on the Central Coast in a trailer outside of the 2 million dollar apartment complex we own. I'm proud of their wanting of simplicity. They see yellow sunrises over the Sierra Nevada's and golden sunsets every evening over a western horizon of water. They have learned to appreciate life as I do. In a physical sense, they feel as if I died. My shadow is cast where I once slept, ate, laughed, and debated humanity. My footprints stain the driveway. My tire-tracks can still be felt by them when

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