POETRY
I AM ….. by oreo I am a good person. In other words, I do what society believes I should do. I am on the honor roll. I am the captain of the Science Olympiad at my school. I am well-liked, popular, and I have no enemies. People tell me that I am charismatic, handsome, or virtuous. By all means, my life is perfect; by all means, my life is full and I am content with my life. I have many friends and I have many acquaintances, all of whom like me. Any obstacle in life, whether it be the SATs, the APs, or the ACTs; be them trials or tribulations, I’ve easily vaulted over each and every single one of them. My life, and by consequence, I, are perfect. So what is this hollowness I feel deep inside? Is it the lack of a challenge? Is it the lack of obstacles that I have never overcome in my life? I don’t know. I don’t know if I ever will know. All I understand is one thing, and one thing only. Deep down, I know it’s wrong. It’s not supposed to be this way. I am virtuous.
Why do I feel this way…? Why do I feel a lurch of joy whenever someone else fails? I should not feel this way over the inferiority of others. A perfect individual should be content with his life, so content that they do not have a drive to seek out competition, but instead feel nothing at all. They should feel neither threatened nor euphoric about their victories; they should understand that such things are only small in the greater context of life and not be caught up in the trivial emotions that come with such trivial accomplishments. So I am not perfect. I am not good. What type of person feels good over the failures or inferiority of others? What type of person feels that inevitable rush of excitement, that burst of euphoria that stretches your mouth into a grin before you realize that you’re in public? What type of person takes joy in others’ misfortune? Me. All me. A fake. That’s what I am. Perpetrating this ruse of being ‘perfect’... of being ‘humble’ and ‘magnanimous’, when in reality I’m nothing more than a manipulative, self-serving person. A liar. That’s who I am. And so… I hate myself.
27|The penchant||DEC 2020
