I came to school today with this awful feeling at the pit of my stomach. It was the same kind of feeling that I get when I'm about to give a speech. It was the same kind of awful anticipation I experience when my parents tell me they have to talk to me. I guess the word I'm looking for is dread.

So I tried to figure out what it was that I was dreading that early in the morning. I was pretty confident I had everything I needed for the day. And I was sure that I wasn't late as I was in fact early. I kept taking deep breaths, trying to relieve myself from that terrible feeling that would not leave me.

It wasn't until I was in Bio class that I realized what it was.

I remember talking to Phil last week about school. I asked him how it was and he replied Tiring. I like it though. It feels like no one is pressuring me anymore. Like it's all on and my own interest to succeed. I was so proud of him then. I really was. What he said was just... so like him.

But what he said doesn't apply to me. It just doesn't. No, the pressure isn't gone. It has increased. And regardless of my (lack of) interest to succeed, people expect me succeed. Why? Because I'm in the honors program. Because I'm allegedly a genius in my craft. Because people picked out a label, stuck into my forehead without asking me whether or not I wanted that label on me.

*inhales deeply*

It was Dr. Hotaling (Oh-teh-ling) that did it. It was her ambivalence. It was her apathy. It was... It was everything she said, it was everything she did, it was everything she was. It was her expectation for all of us to walk away with an A for that class.

It's tough. It's really tough. Especially because back in second year, it was my partner who did the poking and probing of our poor, paralyzed frog; because I have no interest in slicing up roaches to see their silvery whatnots and their yellowy whathaveyous. And I pity my poor little fetal pig because I have to cut her (or him) up just so I could study her (or his) stupid digestive system. Oh gawd. And the sheep's brain! The horror. *sobs*

But it's not just about cutting things open. No. What I'm really worried about is not living up to the expectations of people around me.

So this is what it feels like to be a chick counted before it's hatched.

Labels: feelings

kitten posted @ 3:26 PM