the report card

At the end of each quarter, I loathe for the excitement of opening a rectangularly shaped envelope in the hope of being validated by the numbers on the piece of paper sealed within

The time, the tears, the energy put into the work needed for those high marks

Just so that I can show my parents and they could be proud enough to place it on our refrigerator

Is it really worth it?

In my twisted, attention needing mind, it is

But is it really?

The mentally draining hours where I sit in my bed thinking,

“Am I really not worth it?”

Am I really not worth being here if I'm not as great as I feel I need to be

At times, I believe it’s tedious,

The energy I put into being perfect

But if I really think about it,

Without those high numbers printed onto that piece of paper sealed within that rectangularly shaped envelope,

I would feel worthless.