Sometimes, I get depressed.
Mainly, it's about school;
I've never been fast
when it came to schoolwork.

The strangest thing is;
I've never known why.
It's gotten worse
over the years.

They called me smart
in fourth grade (occasionally, some still do),
and back then
I kept up...sort of...

...but...

...I didn't like writing.
I almost failed English class
because I didn't finish those papers
that I loved to write...

...and...

...math seemed so tedious
even though
I could do the work
so well.

Still, I got through it.
I passed all, and
that was the year
I began to really draw...

...the last year that
I drew good pictures,
but I'll wait
with that topic.

Anyway, I've thought
about my problem;
I ask myself sometimes
if it really is a problem.

Is it something
I've manufactured
with my thoughts;
purely psychological?

Could I maybe go to School
one day,
and suddenly be fast,
like everyone else seems to be?

Am I just lazy?
I'll admit I slack off,
do my own thing,
but that's just because
it's so painful
to spend so long
on something
that everyone else
gets done
so fast...

...or is that an easy excuse?

Maybe somehow I'd speed up
If I'd just do it;
if I forgot my pain...
if I grit my teeth...
and pushed.

Do I have a disorder?
Have people
smarter than I could ever hope to be
already named and labeled this thing;
formulated a cure?
Would they give me pills
to make me faster,
at the cost of meager risks;
drowsiness,
allergy,
nervousness,
headaches,
intense pain,
internal bleeding,
heart attack,
brain damage,
death?

Hm...

On second thought,
maybe I don't want their help.
What else can I do,
there has to be something.

Maybe there's nothing wrong with me;
some say, "Just be yourself"...
but then they end up waiting on me
and it's painful to know
I'm holding them back.

Sometimes,
they forget what they said before
and get frustrated,
but I can't blame them
or the ones that
give
up
and walk away.

Maybe it's because
I've never been one
to focus on only one thing;
one topic or study;
I've always liked many things
I thought it was good
to like and know many things.

Maybe this
is what it's like
to be
a failed da Vinci?

Jack of all trades;
master of none;
is that me?

Then again,
maybe I'm okay.
I do know, or feel, or whatever it's called,
that somehow,
everything will be alright
in the end...
...I've been promised that much.

Sometimes, my thinking is opposite.
It's not my disability;
it's their fault!
...or so I say.
Maybe intelligence (or whatever I supposedly have)
is not supported by the current system.
Maybe there is a fatal flaw
or more than one;
even purposeful (!),
that holds
those that are different
in odd ways, like me,
back.

So I go over it again in my head;

Am I crazy?
Am I lazy?
Am I lying to myself?

Is it them?
Is it their fault?
Have they put me on the shelf?

Am I doomed or
am I dreaming?
Should I even try at all?

Hoping I'm a
sleeping angel...
'fore I stretch my wings, I crawl?

...wait a moment.

You know,
complaining like this...
...it makes me feel bad, too,
because I know
that I'm draining
your energy,
by running on
about things
like this.

It makes me feel
so selfish,
and maybe
I am.

  ...wait a moment.

Then I realize
that I've just spent
two-and-a-half hours,
writing...
...
  ...
    ...this.

What depressing poetry.

Oh yeah...
...I still have
that English
homework
to do.