Not Smart

Too many times in my life I’ve been told, “You’re the smartest person I know.”

This saddens me because I’m not smart. At best, I can eke out almost an average intelligence, which means most of the time I struggle with a below-average intelligence.

There are so many things I don’t know, can’t comprehend or won’t solve. I find myself stupefied by answers others spout instinctively. They can decode and predict faster and with greater accuracy than I’ll ever hope to achieve on a good day. So what does this all mean?

Have I fooled people so well that they think me smart, or am I really the smartest person they know? If it’s the latter, America is doomed. I can’t be above average smart because that means half the population knows less than me, and I know so very little.

I wish I was sharper than I am; I’ll even fake it if I don’t stop myself in time before the embarrassment ensues. But I’m as far from smart as heaven is wide, to borrow a bit of a lyric from Garbage.

If I was smart, I wouldn’t be where I am, in the condition I am and as full of regret that I am. I’ve made more mistakes in my life than I want to count, but my brain sure likes reminding me of each and every one.

Please do not take anything I say as wise or insightful. I know too little to be either. I’m just guessing and faking my way through life with one step forward and two steps back. That’s only two steps back on really good days.

I hope you have better luck. I’ve never been know as lucky.