Dear God,
I’m sitting in class right now, eating my lunch, while the clique I usually hang out with is outside soaking up vitamin D. They never fail. They mostly make perfect scores, and somehow still have time to do fun things—Latin dancing, going to clubs, karaoke, relaxing in our hotel’s jacuzzi. I only went out with them once. I had a good time… but ever since then, I’ve stayed inside.
I failed the last test. I missed eight questions out of fifty. You’re required to score a 90 or higher—basically, only A’s. Ironically, the group of people I’m closest to, including my roommate, all made perfect scores or missed just one question.
I know I’m not supposed to worry about what others think of me. I know I’m not even supposed to worry about what others are doing. But the truth is, I can’t help but wonder—why am I not as smart as these people?
At least with Daisy, she left for health reasons. And Elena left because English isn’t her first language—a real and difficult language barrier. But me… what’s my excuse? I’m just not smart enough.
I’m drinking a Diet Pepsi right now. I hardly ever drink soda. I guess this is my version of self-destruction—at least it’s not weed this time.
Amen.
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