Pressure to be Everything



Doesnt matter if  you get a head start. The world's biggest dumbass was, at one point, smart. Look back at what you were. Now you're confused by your very own words. A slip up made you fall down. Can't climb back up. Sit there and drown. One failure leads to the next, a class, then a passion, your whole plan never goes into action. Being fed lessons when you don't care. I'll never use this equation, but I'm forced to remember. How can we find what we're good at? I'm failing these subjects because I don't wanna be that. My fate depends on classes I hate. Is it right to make me look like a failure? You know what's best for me to take? Sorry, it's my life at stake. I can't even think straight. It's counted against me every time I make a mistake. Year by year it starts to drain you. In the end you're not the same you. Worn out. Confused. What happened to the drive? The potential? I got used to failing whatever you made me do. At first I tried. I struggled. I cried. It never got better. Then, I got lost. Your system tried to make me what I was not. So much time, so much energy, spent on crashing my brain. Would it have been the same if I could've trained to be the best at what I wanted? I don't ever remember what I liked when this started.



you have accurately summarized my first year of college. you're definately not alone. :)

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741