The word sings in the ear 
Pierces the senses
Calms the soul
Stokes the fire
Gives a warm hug
Throws me to the ground
Am I proud?
Of course
So why the mixed emotions?
Maybe my goal is not:
To "always be on top"
To "be the smartest kid"
To be looked at every time the word "intelligent" leaves a teacher's lips
Maybe I'd rather be seen as valiant,
And not one who is senselessly dangerous
But one who is a harbinger of justice, mercy, and kindness.
Maybe I'd rather be seen as a dictator,
And not one that trashes the thoughts of others,
But one that literally dictates in a way that changes lives.
Maybe I'd rather be seen as a historian,
And not one that simply documents history
But one that creates it.
You see, the word "Valedictorian" is a box, not an earned title,
That classmates reserve for the
"Try-hards," "the nobodies," and "the anti-socials."
Don't put me in a box on a shelf
Because you might find that it falls on your head.


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741