I was on top
I was the creme-de-la-creme
The cream of the crop
The best of the best
I had worked hard to get there, too,
So I was loving every minute of it.

But then came high school
And with it
Competition
I hadn’t known hard work until then.
I was struggling to keep my spot as
King of the mountain
You said it yourselves
“Maya, you’re slipping.”

If only you knew
How true
That statement is
If only
You could see the deep dark chasm
That I’m slipping into
Weighed down by this boulder of pressure
You’ve put on my shoulders

Do you hear your words?

“Think about it, Maya
You gotta keep your grades up
You gotta get a scholarship.”

“You’re slipping, Maya.”

“You’re letting us down.”

“You only got a 93?”

I’m not the best anymore
But why does that make me not
Good enough?
Are you telling me
That I only meet your standards
When I’m perfect?
What if perfection isn’t possible?
But think back,
Back to when I was
Number one
Do you remember your knife-like words then?
I do
Let me refresh your memory:

“Stop being so smart, Maya.”

“You’re making the rest of us look bad.”

The rest of us...
Like I don’t belong
I know that
To your ears
You’re just egging me on
To you it sounds like
Constructive criticism
But whatever I do
I do not meet your standards

You expect me to
Get the highest grades
Understand everything
Then when I do
I am shunned
And told to stop

Please explain to me
How is that “constructive?”