In eighth grade, I volunteered every Sunday afternoon at Rosewood nursing home in Joliet. I would help the residents during bingo; I enjoyed helping one resident in particular, her memory and hearing were fading but she was always so happy. She loved my curly hair and would always comment one how, “no one in [her] class ever had black curls so [she] would do everything to get rid of them” and that she wished she would have let her hair be instead of spending years worrying about fitting in. It is said to children everywhere to just be yourself, but there is so much pressure to fit in it is harder to be yourself than to try to fit a mold. If an eighty year old woman looks back and her regret is attempting to fit the mold than being herself than
