Why am I here?

I grew up with five older siblings, each one seemingly more successful than the next. Student-body president, captain of the soccer team, valedictorian from Princeton, art prodigy, science whiz… then there was me. Not particularly great at anything, perpetually stuck in mediocrity. Always the best of the worst, or the worst of the best. 

I was simply, average. 

Books quickly became my refuge in elementary school. Hidden behind their pages, I could immerse myself into far off worlds where reality couldn’t reach me. My love of stories transcended onto paper, where I created my own heroic adventures with characters that I cherished, writing till my fingers were raw and my face was covered in lead. 

“You are an incredibly talented storyteller,” my teacher informed me in the seventh grade. Unbeknownst to her, this innocent compliment sparked a decade’s long self-worth battle as a self-proclaimed ‘writer’.

Suddenly, writing wasn’t about telling stories anymore– it became a fight for validation, a quest for perfection. Every word I put down had to be perfect, every sentence scrutinized under the harshest microscope. Writing ceased to be my solace and turned into an anxiety-inducing chore. My passion suffocated beneath the weight of impossible expectations. My perfectionism took over, making me despise the very thing I once loved. 

I spent hours locked in a prison of my own thoughts. A desperate search for a word that didn’t exist. A phrase that eluded me. A sentence that was never good enough. 

I was never good enough. 

Each line became evidence of my perceived inadequacies, reinforcing a cycle that kept my passion restrained and my creativity hostage by fear. 

Paralyzing fear. 

Changing my major to Journalism marked a pivotal reclaiming of my passion, a courageous confrontation that held me captive for far too long. I am enrolled in this class because I am done letting perfectionism dictate my story. I am here to embrace imperfections as essential parts of growth, to celebrate the chaotic, powerful truth hiding behind every story. 

To me, journalism embodies authenticity, the power of storytelling, and the beauty in imperfections.

Today, I choose messy brilliance over polished silence, embracing my flawed, powerful voice– a voice finally daring to speak its truth and the truths of others.