As a child I was told education is the path to a successful life where you are not living day by day, paycheck to paycheck. As a young child in school, I was always told I could become anybody I wanted when I grew up. I was told that anything is possible if you set your mind to it. I can't recall the first time I was told I was undocumented. It's like I always knew, although I do recall the feeling that this status brought to me.

As a young girl I dreamed of someday becoming a police officer or a firefighter. Being undocumented affected me For the first time when I was in high school. When I turned 16 I received my driver's permit but could not obtain my license. I didn't know how to explain to my friends that I was not "good enough for a license. Even though I had obtained my permit and even though I had passed the Driver's Ed, I wasn't "good enough for society. For the first time ever I understood I couldn't be whatever I set my mind to. I felt betrayed by my family, by my education, and by the community. I felt alone. My chances of going to the university of my choice were so small, but what hurt the most was knowing that my chances of even attending college were almost impossible. My lifelong dream to get out of poverty was slowly being shot down. Even though I have a learning disability I managed to graduate with double honors from elementary school and ended up in the top 25% of a class of thousand students in high school. Even with all of this, I wasn't "good enough for a college education.

Seeing my mother struggle to raise two girls alone in a different country gave me the strength to not give up hope. I knew I had to be careful to whom I disclosed my status. I knew that if I revealed my situation to the wrong person my whole family could be in danger. Even at school I wasn't safe. At times I felt I was living two lives: the one I pretended to have for society and the one I had at home. As I slowly gained trust I opened up to my high school counselor. Not surprisingly, she was more clueless on this subject than me. I was the one that informed her that even with my delicate status I was still eligible to attend college. I couldn't ask my family for help because they weren't familiar with the system at all, and society was against me. I did not give up, I pressured my counselor to learn more, and I made connections with other staff members that I thought could help me. Finally with perseverance I was accepted and given scholarships to attend a university.

When I enrolled in college, my undocumented status hit me harder. My admission process was different from other students. As class started I set my goal to be in the top of my class and also to be very involved with extracurricular activities. These goals opened the door for me to be eligible for more scholarships. Many of these scholarships were not renewable for the next year, and therefore I never knew if I would be able to come back the following year.

When president Obama opened up Deferred Action for DREAMers, I didn't want to apply. I felt frightened that something could happen to my family. I was afraid they could serve time in prison or get deported. As time progressed and I became a junior in college, I was in need of an internship and a job so I could return the next school year. These events forced me to apply for DACA. Today I have the authority to work in the United States legally, but I still feel cheated and unsatisfied. It feels horrible not to be "good enough for the place I call home. I live day by day proving society wrong and I won't stop until I obtain justice, freedom and liberty for my community in the place I call home.

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