I’m not even twenty, and every day feels like a mid-life crisis.
I think I peaked early. I can reminisce about the good ol’ days, back when I owned the shit outta the spelling bee and kicked ass and took names in algebra; when I was reading at an eleventh grade level in fifth grade and the teachers just didn’t “know what to do with me”. I was bright. I had potential. Hell, yeah, I’ll say it: I was a goddamn prodigy.
Then what? School got harder, and I didn’t get any smarter. I didn’t really need to; I graduated high school with a B average and pretty dang sweet SAT scores and got into every college I applied to. That’s the kicker. I got in everywhere I applied, so what am I doing here, unable to handle basic coursework at community college? Was I so good at bullshitting my way through high school that I fooled everyone, even myself, into thinking that I could handle higher education, when really I’m about as ready for college as Paris Hilton is for a dirty orange jumpsuit and a girlfriend named Bertha? Am I just afraid of failure? Am I just plain lazy?
The answer to all of the above is yes. The scary part is, I don’t know what to do about it. And the down-right terrifying part is, I don’t think I really want to do anything about it.
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