Just one second, please.

The slashes and dashes of that velvet red pen

Its pretty intimidating, how your life is judged based off of

A grade

The number of check marks

The percentage.

However, do you see that broken girl I am?

The pressures that I have infused each equation with?

KE=mv2, more like kill me, I need an A.

The pressures that I have embedded in my essays when I line-edit them. One sentence.

Second paragraph.

Conclusion.

The anxiety. Will I get an A?

Just one second, please.

When I come home to an empty house. Metaphorically.

Do you see that? Or am I just another 4.0 GPA.

Just one second, please.

Everyone is pushing me to succeed, however I'm considering

Being under Prozac because I can't just fake it anymore.

Just one second, please.

Realize that I'm not just an individual seeking perfection.

Realize that grades aren't determining my happiness.

Realize that it's destroying me. All that perfection to the extent of anxiety.

Just one second, please.