I never asked for anyone to label me as smart or clever
All I wanted was to be a child.
I never asked for this fatal obsession with being good at everything
I wanted to make mistakes
I was told that I was perfect and so that is what I had to become.
Well, here’s the truth
I have always been anything but
Maybe I was clever
Maybe my head was just a mess that getting lost in my books was easier than facing the monster in my head
So I studied on my bed,
Every day and every night.
It always seemed honourable , something worth being known for
I think I just wanted everyone to forget that I was me.
My mask has fallen off
I no longer fit into the mould that was created for me as a child.
I cannot silence my brain by studying anymore
It screams and shouts and I feel crazy and stupid and lost.
I try and reach out for the clever me but she never grabs my hand.
I pray but perhaps God has had enough of me.
It seems as if only I can help myself.
Hasn’t it always been that way ?
I have lost the only hand I knew how to hold
Or rather to hang onto
I’ve lost my entire identity or at least what I was told to be
I am no longer clever , I cannot study and just get it
Staying afloat has become difficult.
I am drowning , in my sorrows and in the bits and pieces of who I was expected to be.
I am sorry that I have failed.
I am sorry that I am no longer the same.
I can no longer silence my brain by studying
It screams and shouts now.
Whitney De Jongh is a 20-year-old Coloured Woman. Writing has been a part of Whitney’s life for as long as she can remember, she turns to the pen when she isolates. Whitney allows her poetry to say all that she cannot say. Whitney considers her poetry as her power, that she intends to use to start a revolution.