Chances are that you've never met me before. Maybe you've heard of who we are, but never who I am. You probably don't know what my name is or even what I look like. But you do know my work. In fact, you and I do have that one thing in common: I work, you buy. You'll sometimes hear about the hard work that I have to do, and the long hours that I have to endure, only to end up at the end of the year with less money than you make in a month, and you'll sit there reading your newspaper thinking, "Those poor children," but never do anything about it. Or if you feel bad enough, you'll send a few cents each month to those companies asking for money to help feed hungry children thinking that they're somehow connected to us, making you feel good all in the while. Then the next day, you'll decide to go shopping and buy something that perhaps I, my friend, or my family member has helped to make, forgetting about what you just read in the newspaper the day before. You won't realize that that exact shirt you're wearing, or that pair of name brand jeans that you've got on were made with the sweat and blood of my peers and me. But it’s not my place to blame you for my having to live and work this way. I'd rather earn money making those everyday things that you buy, than not be making any money at all. But I do need you to hear me out.  I do need you to realize that we’re not invisible, that we are the workers that make the goods that you love so much. We’re the children that are behind the scenes.  I do need you to realize that while you’re living in comfort, I never know when my last days will be. I do need you to realize the long hours and the constant battle against fatigue, while working in an environment that surrounds me with life threatening dangers.  I do need you realize that this is how I have to live my life; that this is the story of a child laborer. In order to ever help, I need you to know.