the year of anxiety and emotional breakdowns
we asked our doctors for xanax

crying ourselves to sleep
waking up at ungodly hours

using study tips we found on the internet:
quizlet, kahoots,

khan academy

replacing lunch hours with study halls
desperate to get our projects done

on time

wondering why I haven’t had my period
in months

why I can’t ever seem
to relax

or how many more productive ways
I could have spent my time today

besides calculating the lowest score I could get
but still pass the class

watching movies on netflix
like the gospel,

hunched over in bed, clad in pajamas and tear stains,
crying over my math test marked with a B

because I only feel smart
when I get a perfect grade.

if you don’t get an A,
you are failing.

by the time I was sixteen, I had already experienced
being average, meeting expectations and failing

as a child, gifted was the first word
my teachers used to describe me

which didn’t haunt me
until I found out it was supposed to

when I passed pre-calculus, my dad was so proud
he started carrying my report cards

above the visor in his car

so relieved he could stop worrying
would I get into a good college?

he saw a program on the news
about the epidemic with depression

says he is just so glad to finally see me
taking care of myself

if you develop depression
when you are already broken to begin with

you go to the hospital

if you develop depression
when you are not already broken to begin with

you get told to “**** it up”

so when my grades started dropping,
everyone was disappointed in me

for being lazy

teachers who never spoke to me before
stopped me in the hall to ask if I’m okay

I say, I am sick
they say, No, you are

just incompetent

how could I not
hate myself?

with becoming the kind of mistake
people are supposed to learn from?

why would I ever want to
stop studying

when my intelligence was the most
interesting thing about me?

so, how lucky it is now,
to be boring

the way not going to guidance
is boring

the way looking at a 86%
and only seeing a B, not a failure

or fourteen points marked off
is boring

my story may not be as impressive as it used
to be, but at least there is nothing left

to count

the calculator in my head
finally stopped

I used to love the feeling of passing a hard test,
being the only one in the class to do so

not obsessed with being perfect
but afraid of being flawed

I used to take pride in being
top of the class

now, I am proud to have stopped
seeking revenge on this body

this was the year of accepting my grades
when they weren’t immaculate

without punishing myself

and I know it sounds ridiculous
but that is so hard

when I was little,
someone asked me

what I wanted to be
when I grew up

and I said,

smart