Poems With Reason

~I Can't Do This Anymore~

I can't do this anymore.

The work is crashing down upon me,

Like a bully that won't let me be.

Except the bully isn't the work,

Its my parents....

"B-, why the f*ck are you getting a B-?" he screams,

"A, it should be an A+," he says,

"If your getting B's, I need to get you a tutor," he states.

These are just some of the everyday crap I get.

Shit, I got a B- on my test,

Can't tell them or ill be yelled at.

They always want me to be the best,

They think I'm being slack.

I'm trying my best.

The pressure is unescapable.

But the comments just make it unbearable.

Such high expectations.

I can't keep up.

The work is getting harder.

You just don't understand.

It's not easy anymore.

I can't just whiz through it like usual.

My breaths are shorter,

Tears run down my face.

My head throbs with excruciating pain,

My body shakes,

As I hyperventilate.

Sick to the stomach.

I really can't do this anymore

I can't keep up to your standards.

I am packed full of work,

So unbalanced.

No social life,

But locked up in my room all day.

Not having a drop of fresh air.

Trapped.

Under the loads of pressure pushing down upon me.

The air taken from my chest,

Leaving me breathless.

"Do you want to cut down on soccer to relieve some of the pressure?" she asks,

You just don't get it.

They are most of the pressure.

Just get off my back.

Leave me alone.

Let me have a minute to relax.

"Your thinking to much about boys," you say.

"You must be mucking around,"

Have you ever thought that maybe,

Just maybe,

The work is getting harder?

The intensity raising.

You think something is wrong with me,

Like a B- is a alien or a crime.

Something that is so bad,

That I have to suffer the emotional weight,

While keeping my face straight.

"Your parents are so harsh," my friends say.

"Wow, they have high expectations,"

"That must be hard,"

"If I got a B-, I would be thrilled,"

They go on and on.

And yet they're all right.

It is harsh.

Yes,

The expectations are hard to meet.

I struggle as a force tries to stop me from succeeding.

It is really hard,

And the added pressure makes me want to curl up into a ball,

Disappear.

I would be thrilled with my grades,

But I've always been taught that they weren't good enough.

That "I"  wasn't good enough,

Unless I was the best.

Unless I was better than everyone else.

Nothing is ever good enough.

Nothing is ever applause.

"I got an A+ today, Dad," I say.

"Good-job," he says.

Like it's expected.

In their eyes, it is.

The pressure is making me sick.

I just want to find a dark room,

And curl into a ball on the floor.

I want to go somewhere,

To be free of everyone's expectations.

A place I can go to do what I want.

Stress free.

With every passing day,

My mood gets lower,

Emotionless,

My will to try is drowning,

I'm slowly dying out.

Drifting away,

Giving up on everything.

I just want it to stop.

I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE....