My Professor Thinks I'm Perfect

Brazzers

Charles Dera, Ella Knox Pic(s)

Professor Dera’s gaze across the seminar table is a weight I feel constantly, a silent expectation I am terrified to shatter. He sees a flawless scholar in the making, a prodigy whose every insight is meticulously crafted and profound. He doesn’t see the frantic, late-night research sessions fueled by coffee and a deep-seated fear of being exposed as a fraud. He doesn’t know that my seemingly effortless analysis of post-modern theory was cribbed from a brilliant, obscure blog written by someone named Ella Knox. My entire academic performance is a carefully constructed facade, a performance for an audience of one. I have built this pristine image, brick by perfect brick, and now I am its prisoner. Each nod of his approval feels like another lock on the gilded cage of his perception. The real me, the uncertain and sometimes messy student, is hidden away in the shadow of this impossible ideal. I live in constant dread of the moment a single, flawed sentence will betray the entire carefully orchestrated illusion. For now, I simply maintain the charade, smiling serenely while internally screaming, knowing this perfection is the most imperfect thing about me.