As a Mexican immigrant and a DREAMER, I'm absolutely devastated.

I won't recite the same perspective as I'm sure you've already heard it. The dessert is extremely dangerous. Yeah, we get it. It gets hot and tiresome. We know. But, think of a Mexican immigrant who entered the United States when he was just two years old. He spent the next three years absorbing the English language through his t.v. that was playing Dragon Tales and Arthur. Think of him as he grows older and enters elementary school, looking around and seeing not color, not race, but kids just like him. He grows up thinking he's no different and quickly talks amongst them using the language he FUCKING learned from a kids t.v. show because his parents didn't speak any English. Think of him when he becomes a teenager and wants to change the world because he now notices people see him differently. He remembers everything he has absorbed up until that point. Every t.v. show. Every song. Every book. Movie. Poem. Adervtisement. Everything. He begins writing a children's book because he wants to help the next generation of children. Then they announce they're going to round up every illegal immigrant in the country. They go door by door and the kid immediately thinks of "The Diary of A Young Girl" because his English class read the book in middle school. He begins working non-stop, spending the night writing draft after draft, trying to help and guide some kids who haven't even been born yet. But one morning, some troops come knocking and ask for papers. The mother and father get deported back to their home while the now teenager is taken away from his home. The only thing that stays is his future in the United Staes. The dream of one day publishing a simple children's book. He finds himself in a place he doesn't recognize and he's s left with the gut feeling of being home sick. But, to the troops, the realists, and every racist with power, he is home.

This is what worries me.