I am Human.I am not Robot.

Since I can remember, school, academically, has never created any troubles for me. I cannot recall ever having to study profusely in order to excel. Everything always came rather simply, naturally almost.
In middle school, I began to notice that I was great at memorizing terms and definitions for tests, but I had a really difficult time putting things into my own words and explaining what the phrases really meant.
Now that I look back, I ponder upon one question: was I really ever smart, or was I just good at memorizing everything?
I used to have a peculiarly large head, metaphorically. People would feed me compliments on how smart I was, and I would always have requests awaiting me to tutor or assist others in understanding things they couldn’t process otherwise.
If you are one of those individuals who believes I am smart or was smart, I ask you to continue reading.
On Thursday night, I was attempting to study genetics for a biology quiz I had the next day. It was always extremely rewarding to be able to piece two concepts together because almost everything I read was going straight through my brain rather than be observed and understood by it.
I cried.
I have never been so frustrated in my life. I didn’t even cry while studying for my finals. They took it easy on us during our first semester at SECA. They gave us much more help and resources than I believe they should have, but now, they’re slowly loosening up the reigns.
Have you ever been reading something and you successfully complete the material, but you realize you couldn’t answer a single question about it because you weren’t exactly present in mind while you read? Maybe you understand each word you read, but nothing makes sense when you attempt to create meaning. This was my Thursday night.
I do not want people to look at my Instagram feed and think my perfect cup of coffee and edited selfie reflects my perfect life. My world is not neatly folded and topped with a bow. The clothes in my dresser aren’t even neatly folded!
Life is a struggle for people of color and white people alike, for the poor and the rich, for the young and the old. No matter your circumstance, your follower count, your diet, or your beliefs, we will all be lit, smoked, thrown and stepped on by the will of the world.
Do not look at me, or anyone for that fact, and wish to be in their shoes. Look at your own feet and learn to become comfortable with them.
My name is Niah. I’m not a little kid anymore, but I’m not a grown woman either. I have dreams, but I have problems. I am happy, but I have sporadic moments of depression and anxiety. I have asthma and an attitude. I have an actual caffeine addiction and watching scary movies, movies about break-ins, deaths, or abductions have permanently left me paranoid. I am Niah and I am not perfect.

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