I am not a kind person.

No matter how hard I try to paint this image, most of it remains a

facade. Many people can agree that we don't always live truthful lives. We cast ourselves in a
spotlight for so long that we forget what is festering in the dark. For me, this darkness has been
pushed to the very edge of my consciousness where no one can find it and where it cannot find
me. But when shadows began to reach toward my light, and I was finally drenched in darkness,
I realized I did not even know who I was off the stage.

To understand the darkness I hid from for so long, it's important to be honest about my
motivations and ideals. I've always liked to believe that I was capable. "Hard work always pays
off" was a mantra I clung to throughout elementary, middle, and high school. I always believed
that as long as I tried my best and gave it my all, failure would never find me. Everything
seemed to work out in my favor when I was younger, and I fell in love with achievement and all
its benefits. It felt good to win character count awards in elementary school. It felt good to be
first in the science fair. It felt good to be elected ASB president in junior high. Every medal,
every award, and every congratulation was a shiny jewel I adorned my ego with. I let praise and
admiration fill my cup and drank greedily to savor the delicious feeling of success. But what
initially began as a delightful treat began to consume all my thoughts. I constantly sought the
next high, scared to lose what I believed defined my worth. So much of what motivated me
stemmed from the desire to be recognized. I continued to have this mindset in high school for
the first three years. On such a larger stage, there were many more goals to achieve and many
more people to impress. I loved to be loved, and I enjoyed the envy of others. From the outside,
I was a dutiful student who strived to achieve my best for the sake of knowledge. I was a
supportive friend who was kind to others for the sake of being labeled a good person. My
morals, motivations, and mindset were all falsely attributed to my desire for perfectionism. I liked
how "perfect" would be admired and desired. My expectations for myself became those I
mistakenly believed other people had toward me. I wanted to perform well in every exam,
assignment, and contest because it aligned with the image I hoped to create.

Now, I don't wish to diminish my accomplishments in my high school career. However, it

wasn't until recently that I realized the misplaced motivations and skewed mindset I've clung to
for so long. I indulged myself with the belief that I wanted to be a high achiever simply for
self-betterment. I justified my entitlement to reward simply because I put in effort. Never was I so
wrong. Unfortunately, it took me the hard way to finally see this clearly in my Senior year. It
sounds dramatic when I say this was the absolute worst year of my life. It's probably insensitive
to millions worldwide going through more challenging times, but as a teenage girl, let me indulge
myself a little more. It was the worst year of my life because never had failure been so tangible.
I went into my last year of high school with high expectations. After all, it was the finale: the last
hurrah of my spectacular performance. There were so many things to learn, so many people to
lead, and so much legacy to leave. I was prepared to conquer it all. In my daydreams, I saw
myself crowned with white and draped in valedictorian robes as I humbly accepted my diploma.
I saw myself speaking to the masses, sharing wise words and witty remarks. I heard the
applause of hundreds of people ringing in my ears, celebrating my triumphant end to my high
school journey. But who was going to warn me that this epic was actually a tragedy? Although
no one died, it felt like my senior year was the death of myself, or at least the image I wanted
everyone else to believe. I faced death in the form of failing to meet my own expectations.
Throughout the year, I could never quite achieve the outcome I wanted:

● Deferred in all my early action schools

● Runner-up in a pageant I joined at the last minute
● Did not win the most improved award in tennis
● Did not receive the regent scholarship for any UCs
● Placed second in a speech contest
● Rejected or waitlisted from most East Coast schools
● Did not win the Virginia Smith scholarship for four years
● Was not chosen to be a graduation speaker

Although these events may seem minor when listed out in this format, each felt like a
butcher knife to my heart at the time. The knife was also laced with feelings of regret, envy, and
resentment, poisoning the wound deeper. It didn't help that I was also deeply insecure about
myself around this time. I had several significant fallingouts with close friends, and my skin had
never been worse. I was spiraling into a bottomless pit of sorrow and bitterness. The darkness I
had feared for so long devoured me in one huge gulp, leaving me to wallow in the company of
nothing but self-pity. I kept asking myself, why not me? Had I not put in equal, if not more,
effort? I felt entitled to everything simply because I believed I worked hard. But hadn't everyone
else, too? Who was I to play God and decide who deserved what? A real-world lesson I came to
terms with is that the world is not fair. On such a large stage, no omnipotent judges declare right
from wrong or deal out karma like playing cards. You can put money into the vending machine,
but the snack may get stuck. You can water and tend to the soil, but the seed may not sprout.
Effort doesn't always reward success-- and that's ok. As I spent more time in that darkness, I
became acquainted with the true me: the person below all the ambition and greed. I was
someone who wants and wants and wants, but this made me forget everything I already had.
Gratitude reminded me again. While envy eats away your mind like erosion, gratitude is the
cement that strengthens your heart. From loving friends to a supportive family that can provide
for me, there are a multitude of things that I am blessed with. Comparison truly is the thief of joy,
and I understood this simple message by the end of the year.

So, as this final act ends, I'm no longer afraid to draw the curtain or shut off the spotlight.
I've come to terms with who I am in that darkness, and while the process wasn't comfortable, I
feel liberated as an individual. I can now accept failure without fear, feel gratitude for everything
in my life, and be truly happy for other people's successes. Life isn't always a performance that's
Oscar-worthy. Every person has things going on behind the scenes, and the spotlight does not
always reveal one's true self. But even in darkness, I'm no longer afraid to be with myself. I don't
need a standing ovation or an Academy Award at the end of my high school performance.
Instead, I'm grateful to have learned more about myself and my motivations. If you've reached
this far in this lengthy rant, I'm thankful that you took your time to understand the dramatized
story of a dramatic high school girl. I advise you, if you haven't already, to take a look at yourself
off the stage. Do you know yourself behind the curtains?