I Don't Know What To Think About This...

I met a girl the other day. She excelled in English, got a 32 in the English section of her ACT's, took honors classes in school. She was a writer, but then stopped when she realized that she was only good in comparison to writers like her. So like, in a field of apples, she was a peach, but she most definitely wasn't a mandarin orange.

She said this to me one day,

"It doesn't matter how much I love grammar, or how well I use it, because whatever I write, it will be exemplory. Because that's all that's expected of me. If I improve, I will improve only by the standards of those who judge me. You see, if I misuse a comma, it's okay, because I wasn't expected to use it properly in the first place. If I fragment a sentence, it will get passed over because that's what I'm known for. Is grammar dead? No, but it only lives in those who have access to it. Being that I grew up in the ghetto, and had no access, I'm not expected to learn."

"But you did." I say inquisitively, "You did learn, and you're wonderful, doesn't that count for something?"

"No." She answered abruptly and blankly, devoid of feeling. It wasn't that the feeling was never there, it was that she had felt so much; that there wasn't any left. So I felt for her,

"Is that okay? To only be able to play on one level?" As I said this I realized that a tear strolled down my face. She looked at me and shrugged,

"I don't know it it's okay, I just know that that's what it is. That's what I have to aspire to, to be the top of my class. but never the Dean."

I wiped away my tear, and I knew why I was crying, but I can't put it into words. It has to do not just with our conversation, but with its implications, and consequences. I see her every now and again, and it's the same thing, brilliance bound by predeterminations.

And I don't know what to think about that...