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October 23, 2021
Look at me
I’m getting frustrated
tampered with studying
annoyed by small things
like every other teenager
But when I’m stuck with you
I have nothing to talk about
because your Suffering is worse
You thrive in it
laughing with other friends
playing, spending all-nighters,
going to competitions
all while maintaining a perfect GPA
an Ivy League resume
I feel minimized
like eraser dust
ready to be swept out onto a dirty floor
“What must I do better,” I ask:
Is it my GPA?
Is it a hectic struggle
to find out who’s better at what
than the other?
Please shut up.
© MacMillan
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I wrote this poem thinking that my upper-grade friends view me as a past experience: I can't complain in front of them because they've already gone through what I have and will eventually go through, and the suppressed emotions I've felt while being with my upper-grade friends culminated in this poem.