This month has been hard. I am moving in less than a month and my shit is not together. Although my move is for an extremely positive reason (Graduate School) the stress of the big change has caused me to develop a funk. This funk defies logic so despite having a lot of positive things going on I have resorted to my 14 year old Emo self and done what any young black emo would do...listened to Paramore. It is a known fact that all black people not so secretly love Paramore. Considering their music is about a permanent existential crisis it’s relatable af.
Unsurprisingly, there are lots of young women and men in di wurl like me. We had genius-level IQ’s, our aunts made us read in front of the whole family when we were still in diapers, we cruised thru high school. We had no fear we would finesse our way into a top university and mostly we stunted on dez hoes WIT OUR BRAINZ. We may or may not have struggled thru college but at some point between “Mom can I hold a dollar?” and complete financial independence we got lost. And now here we are, struggling to find our purpose and path, not so discreetly begging our doctors for Xanax prescriptions, and tweeting cries for help as we get thru our days on autopilot. Some of us are depressed, some of us have anxiety, some of us twerk through the stress on Saturday nights but we all have the same question: Where did we go wrong?
We come up with answers.
Maybe we aren't as smart as we thought, maybe our talents aren't real, maybe we should fill out that McDonald's app with the quickness. My personal favorite thing to do is blame my parents. Not saying their intentions weren't great and they didn't mean well saying I was soo smart and sooo ahead of my peers when I was 4... just because I could tie my shoe and my classmate was still eating nose waste. But the thing is, giving a kid the mindset that they are superior will ultimately set them up for failure. GOOGLE DAT SHIT, I didn't make it up. The day the kid (or the pseudo adult) isn't good at something, they can't understand why. They should be the best. Dey not. They fail; it sucks...badly. They fear failure; they stop trying. Fast forward through puberty and the ratchet years and they graduate college and are unemployed. They take the first job they can get and hate it. AND THE WORST PART: All the simple-minded folk are THRIVING. Yet, the always ahead of the game shawty with the 151 IQ is sitting there salty and confused. Of course it's rude to call people simple-minded, but it's true
Not everyone is smart. It’s okay, we all don't have fat asses either.
But you different. You took the best classes, had the most deep conversations with your friends, learned the art of emotional intelligence and free read thrice a week. You were a feminist before it was cool and did fine on the SAT without trying. You bougied your way through life and you are still unhappy. You think you pawpin cuz the girl who got pregnant sophomore year of high school with the butterfly tramp stamp is a nurse assistant and her baby daddy does check out at the grocery but they happy AF. ARE YOU MAD OR NAH. Simple goals, no fear of failure, simple life. Happy life. But nahhh we caint live like that. We have to have these high ass aspirations, expectations, validations, all the ‘ations” because we’ve thought we were the next Einsteins ever since our fifth grade teacher with the disconnected beard told us we were “special”. We listen to the Hamilton soundtrack and daydream about our legacy like we gunna be great one day.
We feel this extreme need to make some huge difference in the world to live up to what everyone predicted of us. We stress. Our 9-5’s aren't enough to keep us happy, and our dreams always seem out of our reach. We don’t try to accomplish what we are easily capable of because we fear failure. We complain to our other brilliant friends about failing by being stagnant. Somehow we cling to our hope. We ask questions to the universe and sometimes we get answers. And most of all, we vent to our group texts for support. Xanax is addicting. And 30 still seems so far away.
...Ya feel me?
Somedays I feel like a Great Value Beyoncé and others I feel like Basura. The key is to keep on swimming.
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