I am not book-smart or adverse to basic problem-solving skills that lead to revolutionary changes. If my past three years of grades tell you anything, it’s that I am not academically the smartest. All arrows point me away from math, seeing as I couldn’t tell the difference between two equations side by side, or why a graph makes a clover shape instead of a straight line.
That being said, I am smart. Technically speaking, I can read, write, and drive on roads. I can paint magnificent snow-covered mountains, and know to use peroxide cleaner when the tacky bits won’t disappear.
The definition of smart is vast, in its most technical terms. It depends on the group and the status of the surrounding minds. Here at FHC, I would not call myself smart. My definition is skewed by watching students take four hours of A.P. classes and knowing textbooks page to page with photographic memory.
I fully believe that in terms of equations, historical facts, and chemical formulas, I will never shine as bright as some. But that is none of my concern.
Being on this rock in space, watching tides come and go, and cars drive across the horizon, I have come to accept that my abilities settle this way to let me live.
Knowing the exact variables in calculating rocket speed to the moon and back is the least of my concerns. I have bigger things to worry about. In constant strife and swimming through high school, the kind of ‘smart’ I pursue tops any education offered to me.
The knowledge I seek is in knowing who I am and who the people around me are. These are the things that will help me to navigate life with my eyes closed.
In typical fashion, I am empathetic to the level of sensitivity. First impressions have become incredibly close estimations. My ability to guess people based on the looks I get from them is crucial, and noted in expert detail.
From the way a person talks in quick breaths and drags out syllables, to how they lumber down the halfway without a care in the world, it’s all flying like film in my mind.
I am perceptive to a level that I find very few can comprehend. Setting that aside, however, I’m knowledgeable about all the things I need to live. Not only that, but to navigate social interactions despite my introverted nature.
Being on this rock in space, watching tides come and go and cars drive across the horizon, I have come to accept that my abilities settle this way to let me live.
I am so happy that I turned out the way I did because I feel like, in a sea of suffocation, I know how to take a breath.
