Essays

Academic Validation

I did better, but all I got was a nod. All I'll ever get will be a done

That is what is expected of you. You do well.
But of course, you can always do better, so you never get the praise. Your efforts will always be overlooked.

"OH my soul, I'm so proud of you! This is amazing. Well done."

I twinge of hurt still shoots through alerting the world of the two-faced liar. The hypocrite. I'm happy for her. I am. But she gets the 'well done', but I don't?

It's not fair. It never will be.

It's just a "good" get over it. It's easy for someone who never craved for it. Who never relied on such, to say.

Not for me, though. NOT. FOR. ME.

I was the smart kid growing up who just got things. Who just understood. I was proud of that, too. I can just do it. I don't need help.

What happens, though, when your whole life starts revolving around this, around being the smart kid. The know it all.

The comments aren't easy. Yeah, they are funny coming from your friend when you're frustrated about constantly being asked to explain or help.

"Who told you to be smart?" I did. You did. Everyone did.

I don't have the luxury of doing bad or even getting a mere 80. It's not good enough. It hasn't been for a while.

I wasn't the only one who put the pressure on myself to do well. But once you start, it's not as simple as stopping you, if you do you become the object of conversation.

"Oh, you know so and so dropped she probably peaked at the easy stuff and couldn't handle the actual work."

People start expecting you to do well. Your teachers, your friends, your parents. You, you start killing yourself over something that might not even end up mattering.

Tears slip down my eyes as my inner turmoil starts to burn a fire of rage slowly, making its way, burning a hole through my chest. I'm never good enough. Here I am crying over, not getting a "good."

Oh my gosh, I'm pathetic. Flipping useless.

Dear younger self, why oh why did you start doing well from earlier? Stop doing so well. Catch everyone by surprise later. You would have gotten more. Your efforts would have been seen. You won't just be the smart kid who just gets it. You'd be the kid who tried, who worked. Who got it.

The trauma doesn't end there for you, kiddo. Your efforts dont not only get unappreciated, but you'll  always be overshadowed always. Second, place out of a hundred people, it won't matter, though, just number 2. The forgotten one. The one that will never be remembered. Just the other girl.

Shaking myself out of my self-pity haze, I rise and start studying and restarting the cycle once again.