I’m not sure I do. I know I’m smart. Knowing that is enough for me. I know myself. I don’t need anyone else to tell me that. I don’t need engraved plaques that tell people I’m smart. Everyone thinks she’s the smarter one. That’s a great idea. No, I’m not hurt. She makes the grades. I don’t. But it’s ok. I’m street-smart too, and she isn’t. At the end of the day, I’ll survive out there. She’ll drown like a fly in soup. I know I’m smart. Who gives a f*** anyway? I know I don’t.