People tell me I'm a genius, smart, talented. There's a boy who once, twice, asked me, "How is your life so well put together? How are you so perfect?"
Straight A's, 4.0 GPA, Carnegie Hall, Lincoln Center...black and white keys that swim in front of my eyes...
I feel like a girl who's melting, with rough edges, sticky edges, and tiny cracks all the way through, a perfection-shaped blob.
Keeping my distance so people only see the person who's a genius, with that 4.0, with that piano. So I can hear their praise, so the boy with star-filled eyes can look at me and wonder how I've built myself so well.
Why am I like this? The girl in the mirror smiles, like she's been trained to do.
"You. You made me like this~"
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