I’m tired of the numbers game.
Or maybe it’s the societal pressures game
I ranted about this as a teenager, and I still rant about it today.
I’m tired of the metrics of success. Of quantitatively justifying why certain initiatives might be important. Of reducing my worth down to a GPA, a grade, or a diploma, if I can ever even manage that.
Life seems like a rat race, and the pressure is on.
I set unrealistically high expectations for myself. I thought excelling was my sole purpose in life, that I could only matter if I achieved more.
That’s why I created a facade to please the people around me.
And now I’ve finally started to break through and be my nerdy self.
So what if I haven’t won an Olympic medal at 16 or written my first novel in college or haven’t made my big break yet?
So what if I’m mediocre and have wasted potential and can’t fix my life to be as Instagram-perfect as some of the other people around me?
So what?
What is all this for?
Why do the joys and triumphs override all the pain, the heartbreak, the mess that is life? I know I minimize positive things a lot, but life isn’t as great as it seems on social media.
