Despite always being distracted during class, there wasn't a single concept I couldn't catch up with. Classes always went well for me, my grades were always close to excellent. That shouldn't be surprising, since I come in to class 2 hours before commencement everyday to study ahead. I plopped myself onto my seat in the dark, vacant classroom, absorbing the contents of my textbook in the tranquil isolation.
I liked being intelligent, I liked that it made my parents happy, I liked that it made my teachers proud and made my classmates see significance in me. I liked the attention and praise I got whenever I was awarded for 'Top Female Student', followed by him, the 'Top Male Student' of the grade. I liked how imminently prominent my presence became, but I wasn't so sure if I liked the actual process of learning.
Whenever my name got called out during class, I'd have to immediately snap out of my daydream, shifting my drooling gaze away from the clueless, occupied figure close to the back of the classroom. My teacher knew how obsessive I was over perfection, but I can't help but feel like she isn't on my side. I feel like she's waiting for the day I get caught red-handed, waiting for my descendant to failure. Or something like that.
I was once just another student in the classroom that got average grades, one that nobody paid the slightest attention to. I would look at my teachers and ingest the information they gave out, I would occasionally look to my notes and write something to at least look attentive. But of course, I would have my subtle focus on the boy at the back, perking up whenever he did speak to our classmates during class. I remember when it was our senior ball last year, he didn't attend. Rumour has it that he was particular with his choice of girls, his only desire was to be with someone intelligent, sincere, sweet.. like him.
