This past year has brought so much change my way. I started out going to Iraq a naive young girl, and return a cynical woman. The greenness of my youth is buried in the sand, where I dwelled for so long. So many times I find my mind thinking back to my war days.

Only now, six months later, have I realized it's not Iraq I long for; rather it's my lost youth. There's something that comes with maturity, almost like your soul dies. Passion is replaced with mainstream ideas. Ideological thoughts of making a difference get clouded with the harsh world of reality. Is it reality, or perception of reality? What if we stayed true to our thoughts of how life should be, instead of settling for what life is? Why is it that as a small child we feel we can change a whole world, but in the end it is the world that changes us?

I have found that we don't get smarter as we grow; we just get better at conforming into the worldly mold. Society kills the dreamer, the poet, the romantic. I should know for I once was so full of all these things. Once upon a time, doing the right thing had nothing to do with wrapping yourself in ribbons. After all, ribbons mean nothing if they're given by someone who has no concept of morality. No thank you! No, not I! I will not go silently into the night. I will rage, rage against the dying of the light.