I am told I am an idiot. This is not done explicitly, mind you, but rather by virtue of ‘objective’ numbers and data. I do not fit the standardized mold. I do not feel accepted.
I once received great marks in school via standardized testing. That day is largely departed. This repetition has inculcated a pathway so strong, it ‘conducts’ nearly 24 hours a day. It is now a facet of my identity. So, naturally, I search for signs that suggest I am not an idiot.
I do not fit in with you because I do not feel like you. I am uncomfortable because I simply know not how to relate. I fixate. I have long drawn out thoughts. I associate Freudian explanations to possibly unrelated issues. I do not usually act with haste. I am slow. I take my time.
I am not fast like you. I do not retain information nearly as easily. “I don’t know.” I do not have your sense of humor. I am not cheerful nor confident nor sprightly anymore. I have changed. My scar tissue is exposed. Even those not looking can see it.
My final clutch is the desire to become something great. To hold onto the idea that a 4.0 does not guarantee success nor humanitarian accomplishments. I am not cut out for the ‘hardcore academics’ and research. But perhaps I can still make something of myself yet.
Revisiting home makes me feel like I belong in a place I once sought to abandon. I did not enter Pharmacy school particularly close to my El Paso classmates. Frankly, they are far more competent than I am, and I wish them all the success in the world. There is certainly a place for me here. There is certainly much to be done.
"I have never been able to remember for more than a few days a single date or line of poetry. [instead, he had] the patience to reflect or ponder for any number of years over any unexplained problem… At no time am I a quick thinker or writer: whatever I have done in science has solely been by long pondering, patience, and industry." Charles Darwin