loretta agnesi d6 | fin
Jan 12, 2016 2:04:16 GMT -5
Post by Lyn𝛿is on Jan 12, 2016 2:04:16 GMT -5
loretta
AGNESI
twenty-one. district six. female
AGNESI
twenty-one. district six. female
this is me for forever
i. Mommy used to call me her "little prodigy".
I would arrange my blocks in patterns, she tells me, and recite multiplication tables even when playing ball in the living room. When I was six I'd take my mother's spreadsheets from her store and catch the slightest of mistakes in her calculations.
I was destined for the Institute, she would say, that even if she never amounted to anything more than the cashier of a convenience store, she could be proud of raising me as her daughter.
one of the lost ones
ii. My classmates called me a dweeb.
My clothes were unfashionable, and large, round glasses covered my pudgy face. I was out of shape, socially awkward, and worst of all I actually liked my classes, doing everything the teacher asked of us. Not knowing how to approach others for their friendship only made their jeering worse when I tried, and I eventually stopped trying, retreating into my own world. Numbers made sense, after all. Experiments were replicable things, the bacteria we worked on for our projects depending on no one's mood to breed and spread, regardless of the boy next to me's insistence that they "just didn't like" him - well, no shit when you keep contaminating the feeding solution!
It didn't matter whether these classmates liked me or not, after all, as long as I could still look forward to science experiments and math classes and hope for one day designing research of my own.
one without a name
without an honest heart as compass
iii. My teachers called me a superstar.
When the Institute representative came by our school and told me I'd won the scholarship, my first thought was that of relief, for it meant I could pursue my education like I'd always wanted without worrying whether my family would be able to afford enough food for the winter. But before I had even finished processing the news my teachers and classmates were cheering and flocking around me, my biology teacher basking in vicarious glory and proclaiming her high hopes of me turning into the next Dr. Arocratus.
Well now they pretend to care, because when I succeed they get to say how proud they are of being my teacher. But I don't forget that these were the same students who pulled my hair and stole my glasses, who whispered insults like "fat-ass" and "retarded cunt" in the halls, and the same teachers who turned their backs while they were doing so.
At the Institute, I tell myself, there'll be no more of this. Once I can rely on my scientific knowledge, I'll finally be accepted.
this is me for forever
one without a name
iv. My labmates call me a witch.
Well, I've always been outspoken. I have no patience for the bullshit politicking that my labmates are constantly embroiled in - I mean, I went into science to get away from that crap, but, turns out it's everywhere. I'm fed up with the lies, the scorn, the way they act like they're entitled to shit because of who they know or how much ass they kiss. But what would I know? I'm the youngest in the lab, after all. If I'm upset with the way things are - well, apparently I'm "cute" when I get angry.
"Just do the work and don't worry so much" - it's a nice standard to aspire to, but I've seen too much behind the scenes to still believe it works that way in real life. Because as much as they claim to value skill and knowledge - it only gets you as far as the first gate. The rest of the story is written in subtle glances and smuggled conversation and the pervasive feeling of not fitting in.
You don't belong here, the voices whisper when I'm all alone in the lab working another late night. It's just a matter of time before everyone else figures it out too. It comes so easily to my classmates, and it takes all my effort just to keep up with them, while they're constantly goofing off or playing games. The funny thing is, I used to wish I'd be judged by my skill - and now that it's partly true, I'm finding myself insufficient.
these lines the last endeavor
to find the missing lifeline
v. My students call me professor.
It's not actually the right title, given that I'm nowhere near the privilege of that honorific yet, but the bright-eyed newbies eager to drink from the firehose of knowledge don't see the difference. Hell, quite a few of them look older than me, but it's like standing in front of a blackboard automatically ages my face by about ten years. Day after day, it's my job to teach these kids the basics, make them enthusiastic about ATP and polymerase chains and the Krebs cycle even while I push aside my own doubts about whether this is the right path for me to pursue.
If I don't continue studying the biostatistics I've dedicated my life so far to, I've got nowhere to go, though. I've spent so many years lost in my books that I can't compare with others when it comes to those unspoken gestures and implicit connections. I'm definitely not selling anyone on my people skills, so all I have to fall back on are my knowledge and my memory and my work ethic, but even then compared to my fellow researchers it's not enough, and it's slipping away from my fingers every day.
I'm less and less motivated, these days, less and less able to spend hours and hours focusing on nothing but studying and research. But the voices of all these people continue in my mind, telling me I just need to focus, that if I let myself succumb to laziness I'd be wasting my potential.
oh how I wish for soothing rain
all I wish is to dream again
Genius, dweeb, superstar, witch, professor - all names that others have called me. But I don't even know what to call myself.
my loving heart lost in the dark
nemo my name forevermore
nemo my name forevermore
