My head hurts.

Crammed full to the brim of reminders, conversations, timelines, maybe a quote?

Suddenly I’m back to being pulled out of class to be given a label I never wrote.

Look back. Back at my friends that looked at pictures while I silently read chapters.

“Honey, it’s time for math. Please go back to your seat” sweetly said my captors.

I looked frantically between the chosen kids at my table and the rest of the class.

I got up and nobody moved with me, everyone’s eyes follow me as I pass.

Tears blur my vision as I look at the chosen, math and chapter books in their grip.

Then over to the other kids who all play on the playground, I feel a quiver cross my lip.

My hands grip my hair as I stare at the numbers, they float through my eyes.

I look at my english homework complete. “Why can’t I just get this?” my mind cries.

Why I was told I was gifted? This was all so easy when I was in fifth grade?

Grade. GPA. Will I get into the college I want? Will a decision in my favor be made?

“Madi? Do you know how this number converts?”

No. Sorry, my head just really hurts.