A life unscripted 🐾

Sometimes I wonder what I would be like, If I didn't care to get the good grade, If I didn't think all of my worth was calculated By how much information in my head stayed for a test, for class. I used to crave knowledge like a work of art, Drinking in each lesson, a thirsty heart. But now, the joy's lost in the grade's cold light, A never-ending cycle, day and night. My main source of validation— Who the hell would I be if I didn't have quite the academic fixation? If I continued with my childhood dream of being a singer, Or in a play, if I was a model, an actress, or a fashion designer? What would little me now say?... I don't know at what age I became this way, When a test started making me sweat. You know I don't remember exactly, but I think it was pretty young. I bet because I used to love learning just for the sake of knowing more, But at some point, it started to feel like some impossible chore. Study, memorize, learn, repeat, if you fail it doesn't matter, Somebody else can and will take your seat. Anxiety's insidious voice creeps in, "You're not enough." Neurotic whispers echo, "You'll never be good enough. "Study, memorize, but take care of yourself still; If you fail, of course, it matters, every single grade of yours will. Study, memorize, just get through high school; Study, memorize, if I could graduation college, that'll be pretty cool. Sometimes I wonder what I would be like, If anxiety and I never met, if we never crossed paths on the streets, If my brain wasn't itself a threat, if it took the long way home one morning, Instead of the path straight to my heart. Sometimes I wonder what I would be like, If I could tell anxiety and me apart, If I wasn't seduced by the idea that I was, that it was meant to make me better, If I wasn't sure that I needed it to get a better recommendation letter. Anxiety's grip tightens, "You need me to succeed," But what if I let go, and anxiety's hold weakens? If I knew that it wasn't good for me, so I sent it on its way, If I held little me in my arms and I had all the perfect right things to say, Sometimes I wonder who I would be, If I walked down the street and anxiety didn't recognize me. If instead, a sense of calm shouted my name, Ran up to crash into me and it hugged me until I wasn't the same. Self-compassion's calming aura seeps into my soul, A serene serenity that calms the anxious role, In tender moments, I find my heart's true home..