Numbers

by Kaitlyn Marlowe

Numbers.
n-u-m-b-e-r-s
7 letters come together to form a word that is my existence – I am a number.
Since the moment I could breathe I have been a 9-digit code even worse than a barcode because I am now an object for the government’s use – I am a number.
I am nothing more than the calculator you buy to devise a set of numbers that round into an A and decide my GPA – 3 more letters that form a number that define my existence, that define if I can pay for my education – full of numbers.
Will I ever be more than a number?
My life is defined by the number on the test I took in high school that will force me to stay in the 865 – which is yet another number defining my location so those CIA can track my existence with yet another number because I will never be more than a number.
One day when I pass away I will be a number of the day, of the month, of the year, of the lifetime, my soul will add to the clock that increases every 0.3 to tell you the number of people that have died in this moment because in the end I am nothing, but a number here in the 865 or the 37919 – I am a number.
I am so tired of just being a number.
Hi. My name is Kaitlyn and on this day I am deciding to not be defined as my 9-digit birth right because I am no robot, I am not under government control I have a soul and screw that below average test score – I will not let numbers describe who I am like the polypeptide strand that I will never understand because I hate numbers.
Hi, my name is Kaitlyn – 7 letters come together to form a word that is my existence.
I will not be number.

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