Something that will never become anything; an aborted baby

Let me paint you a picture:

The town I live in has changed so much since any of you reading this have seen it, that it seems completely pointless to name it. But without details, one cannot fully grasp the significance of how different my world is to yours.
We live near the American-Canadian border, in a place that snows and rains and always has a grey, overcast sky. I only ever see sunshine in movies or pictures of California, but even through the glass and light bulbs, I can feel the warming heat of the sun's golden yellow rays.
Parts of our city have been completely forgotten by the adults from all around, as if they don't want to acknowledge all of our pasts. Instead they've filled every other square inch of the city with shopping malls and track homes. As far as the eye can see, a crisscross of perfectly aligned homes, divided only by roads, and color coordinated by neighborhood. Somewhere down the way, I can see a WalMart sign illuminating a crowded parking lot--filled to the brim with mini vans.
This town disgusts me, as is a typical response by people of my age group. We teens are looked down upon as rebellious fiends, incapable of any real understanding of the world. But that, dear readers, is where you and the adults in this town are wrong.


-Sir Jestro