not smart

i'm not smart.

i don't pretend to be.  i latch on to things that interest me and try and master them.  

i have a way with words.

i can write eloquently; it's a gift.  i had a professor in college ask me if i ever revised my papers and i bluntly told him no.  he said that i shouldn't, that i was a natural writer.

it's strange to me that i'm not smart.

i don't think of myself as unintelligent, nor do i say such things for needs of attention.  nonetheless, i would classify myself as someone who has mediocre smarts for mediocre things.

the fact that i say 'things' gives this away.

i was made fun of a lot as a child, and rather than try and be the smart girl, i was the funny girl.  but what isn't funny about that is that i'm not taken seriously.  friends would expect me to write with more humor i suppose.  

i'm not a girl interested in being a certain person.  i love many things like most people in life do.  i'm not interested in conforming to a particular shade.  i'm confident in who i am and the person i want to be; the mark i want to leave on this world.  i don't want to leave this world without leaving my mark.

i'm not a princess.  everyone likes to be catered to, but i've been taught to be self sufficient.  i can't be that helpless girl that someone needs to save, even though i frequently need saving.  i was raised like a child by my mother and like an employee of my father.  i maintain these two stances.

contrary to the way i present myself five days a week, i'd rather be closer to the earth.  i'd rather live in a field with fresh air.  contrary to most kids my age, i'd rather live in a house, with a porch.  

maybe i'm smarter than i give myself credit for sometimes.