Is it the prompt? Nope. But I couldn’t find a more fitting one so…

I don’t know why I have the constant need to prove myself,

In every way, shape, or form.

I’m a reader, I swear,

I just haven’t read in weeks because I’m procrastinating finishing a favorite series.

And it is a favorite series.

I loved those books.

I swear I love them.

I think about them all the time.

I have jewelry from it,

I have clothes,

I have a thousand plus pins on Pinterest.

I’m a reader,

I’m smart.

I mean I get good grades,

And I think I understand everything,

But there’s this nagging feeling that I don’t

And that somehow the rug will be pulled from underneath me

And I’ll realize it’s all been a big hoax.

I thought I was smart,

But then you exist.

And everything comes so easy for you,

So I think that maybe I’m not all that smart.

That smart is what you are.

So I stop pretending I am.

It’s better that way.

Because it makes me more kind.

I’m kind.

I think I’m kind at least.

Because I have friends who like me,

And they wouldn’t like me if I wasn’t kind,

And they like me.

They like me.