or when intelligence corresponds to coping ability.
"wren?" my biology teacher called. i closed the laptop lid before standing and crossing to her desk and sitting at the chair across from her.
"of course, i'll be placing you in honors chemistry next year. you seem to come by biology naturally, and your math grade is high, too."
of course, she had said. why are we even discussing this, number-one-student-in-the-class? she had meant.
"cool," i replied.
"so...how are you liking high school so far?"
the word escaped my mouth before i could think about it. "stressful. my depression and anxiety have gotten worse."
"why do you think that is? when did it start?" she looked concerned.
"mm, about a month ago? i believe it's because i've been putting so much energy into my work that i've been wearing myself out."
"that's a bit odd. since you've just finished swim, you should be better rested." i shrugged. "i think you've got it together, you're smart enough," she added with a small grin. i was sent a way rather quickly, back to my desk.
smart enough.
what the hell does intellect have to do with my ability to cope with depression?
YOU ARE READING
Smart Girl
Non-Fictionthoughts from the smart girl. //the journal of wren// //highest rank #2 in non fiction// //all names of real people interacted with here are altered from their original versions for privacy's sake//
