Dissapointment

What do you do when your very best isn’t enough? The question sends shivers down my spine every time it flutters across my mind.  I gave it my all this time, I really did.  What will Momma say? Another test back, this time tarnished with even more red pen then the one before.

I am supposed to be the smart daughter. That’s what they all say. I am the one destined to rule the world, without lifting a single finger. I will save lives and cure disease. In my down time I will raise a family of geniuses, each one smarter than the last. I have good values. I will never step out of line, I am not like the rest of those good for nothing teenagers, the one’s acting out and getting into trouble. I am mature beyond my years; I know what is important, and which things are simply wastes of breath. This is who I am to the untrained eye.

Unfortunately, the higher the standards, the harder they crash, and the hotter they burn.

How do you tell everyone that cares about you that you are not the golden one? How do you tell your own mother that you are a disappointment? I suppose it will hit her, when my average dips lower and lower, diving down to the black hole that I am falling in to. I have lost the girl Momma thinks I am. If I am not the smart daughter anymore, who am I?

I guess it is a question of identity. Losing yourself is not like misplacing a favorite toy, or accidentely forgetting where you set your keys. It is like a constant struggle, lost in a maze, with no way out. When you don’t know who you are, or who you are supposed to be, how are you to carry on? Momma always told me to never work without a purpose. I have lost my purpose in life. If I cannot succeed in my only promising domain, what can I do?  

Losing yourself is a series of problems. It is always wanting to be a person, that even when you strive, you may never attain. It is searching for a buried treasure that no one took the time to hide. It is constant wonder of whether or not getting up the next day will be worth it. Maybe you should just stay in bed, where no one can judge you.  It is living in constant paranoia that people out there hate you just as much as you hate yourself. It is a deep rooted desire to live, but at this point, you are so tangled up in your own thoughts, that you are gasping for air.  

What do you do when your very best isn’t enough? Momma, your prized daughter is gone now. All that’s left is the monster you created. I gave it my all Momma, I really did. Another disappointment to add to the list, another tear staining the red pen covered test.

The End

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