Beneath the Ice

Photo by Erik Mclean on Unsplash

I’m stuck.

It must be perfect

Because if it’s less, “I didn’t try”

Or “I didn’t apply myself”

The cursor blinking on my open document

Once at the same pace of my own heart

Now sprinting at an unrecordable rhythm

I hear the inpatient thrum of fingers of

Parents, teachers, mentors

Tapping on the desk

Waiting for me to perform

I want to start but

I’m stuck.

It has to be perfect because

I have to be enough

And nothing I do is enough because

It doesn’t stop their tapping and

I want to run to jump through their hoops but

When I jump the hoop moves and

I fall flat on my face

So my mind races staring at the hoop

Trying to anticipate

Trying to figure out how to do it perfectly

So maybe I make it through but

I don’t understand what’s expected of me and

My feet feel like cement blocks

And their stares as cold as the arctic

Like I’m in a vast Alaskan tundra on

a sheet of ice that spans as far as the horizon

and it fractures beneath me

the cement blocks pulling me under

and

I’m stuck

Maybe down here

Away from their gaze

I can re-center, regroup

And though I can’t breathe

At least they can’t see me

They can’t see that

I’m stuck

But could they ever?