The Suffocating Heart

No teenager knows exactly whey want to be when they're thirty, or who they want to be. Except for me, that is. I know exactly who I want to be, where I want to go to university, and what I want to study. I know exactly how I want my future to play out. With one single piece of loose-leaf paper that has help my entire life, goals and plans alike, in the ink between the lines, and it's been the same piece of paper since I was eight years old at the kitchen table with ,y dad as he studies for his college diploma. He was my idol, a diamond in the rough that always seemed to shine brighter than the sun in my eyes. My dad taught me how to read people, how to deal with broken ones, and how to help them. He planted the seen in my mind that psychology was the rout I wanted to go down for the rest of my life, and I didn't protest.

It's been about seven years since that piece of paper became so important, and I am now fifteen. My first year in high school had begun, and it started off great. Fantastic even. I had found great success in my first semester classes, with nothing below an 85%, and I won't lie that I've become sort of cocky. I had gotten another hit of the drug that was my parents pride and I needed more. "You've really blossomed into your true self in high school. You've always been a beautiful young lady, but you are finally you." is what my mom had said to me after getting my first semester report card back. I had smiled and agreed, given her a hug and gone about my day.

Winter break went by as usual, and I was eager to get back in school for the second semester. New classes, new people, new experiences. You see, I had enrolled in an AP English class the year prior, and I was finally going to be able to experience it. It would be an understatement to a that it was not what I was expecting. We had been warned that it would be difficult, but I had always been advanced in my English courses, and I was confident I would continue to find success. Boy was I wrong. My grade never went above a 70% all semester, and I was absolutely terrified to tell my parents about it.

For the past nine years I've never felt confident in who I was, and school was where I found safety. School had sort of become who I was. "Leah, She's such a smart kid! She had the highest grade in the class, isn't that amazing?" Those words had been a bittersweet symphony in my ears for just about a decade. Those words had become my expectation. What was I without my exceptional grades? Nothing. So here I sit, working my bitt off to push my grade just the slightest bit higher.