The Price of Perfection

When excellence is expected, praise is a luxury

Why do my achievements define me?

Why does life feel so damn confining?

When success is respected, there’s no room for mediocrity

- “Price of Perfection” by Katherine Lynn-Rose

All my life, I was always at the top. I lived at the summit of the mountain, where only the best reach. I rode the highest wave, high and great. The star at the top of the Christmas tree, that was me. I was the moon, gleaming bigger than others. I was always the top — not only among my peers but across the spectrum, from the earliest sprout to the budding bloom of high school.

I was always the achiever, never the kid. Always the phoenix, never merely human. Always the Sirius, whose light shall never dim. But now, my sparkle has faded. For the first time, people saw me without my shine. I am still at the top, but no longer the top of all, not the shiniest, not the golden one.

If it were the old me, I would have asked, “Who am I without all those accolades?” “Who am I if I’m not the best among the rest?” “Who am I if I’m just another face in the crowd?” But now, I finally know who I am, even with my shimmer shed. Yet, questions linger: What if others don’t see me beyond the honors? What if they are disappointed in me? What if they view me as a failure?

These questions haunt my mind lately. I’m afraid to face people, fearing their responses once they find out — whether it’s pity or disdain. I don’t want their pity, nor do I want to see widened eyes and furrowed brows. I don’t want to hear the gasps, the ‘whys’ and ‘whats.’ I can’t bear to witness shoulders slumping of disappointment. I’m scared.

Maybe they’ll think I’ve neglected my studies. Maybe they’ll talk behind my back, criticizing me for doing the things I love, the things I’m passionate about, the things that keep me sane — writing and dancing. What if they say that if I had focused more on my studies instead of juggling them with these passions, I could have achieved more? Perhaps that’s what I fear most: them blaming the things that give my life meaning.

And that’s the price of perfection.

But I remind myself that they weren’t the ones who spent late nights working on the projects. They weren’t the ones who sacrificed sleep and leisure. They didn’t bear the weight of leadership in all activities or experience the endless battles against doubt and dissent. This is my life, not theirs. They don’t see the hard work behind my achievements.

I also constantly remind myself that I don’t see the people I love as mere successes or failures. I see them as my “one-call-away” friend, my friend who loves “The Little Prince,” my friend who’s skilled at make-up, my cousins whom I can act like a kid again, my aunt whom I turn to for outfit decisions, my grandma who cooks the best spaghetti, my mom whom I confide in when life gets tough, my dad whom I ask for directions to new places. So, perhaps they don’t see me as the golden child turned bronze. Perhaps they also see me as me.

I hope people see me for who I truly am, beyond the medals.

Surprisingly, I have no regrets or expectations, because my work is not mediocre, and I did not neglect my studies (I’m purely concerned about others, which I’m trying to unlearn). I was happy. I experienced my youth. I learned a lot beyond the books and classroom. I met amazing people, reached new heights, and lived my teenage dream. I performed in front of large crowds, wrote tales of love, and romanticized life. I took care of myself and went at my own pace.

Actually, I’m still among the top, though not at the very top like before. Despite living alone, away from my family, enduring a tough school year, facing challenges with so-called friends and myself, I survived. Despite everything last year threw at me, I managed to keep going, and I’m proud of myself. I did so well.

I just wanted to live life. I still want to live life, and I have lived. It’s okay not to be the best; it’s okay to simply survive and live life. It takes a lot to do that. So, if the only thing you did last year or this year was to live and survive, I’m proud of you. You did so well. You went on, and that’s the greatest achievement of all.

And you know what what I’ve further learned last last year from souls as passionate as mine? The true meaning of success and achievement is subjective. For some it’s living a simple life; for others, it’s pursuing they’re passions; for many, it’s climbing the corporate ladder. And that‘s okay — we are different people leading different lives.

For me, success and achievement means finding balance, pursuing passions, finding happiness, peace, and simply living. It’s an achievement when you can balance life and school. It’s an achievement when you can pursue your passions and enjoy your youth. It’s an achievement when you’re happy, at peace, and truly living. I lived through that stressful year, and I succeeded. That, in itself, was a huge feat.

Without my achievements, I am someone passionate about everything I do. Someone who gets excited over little things. Someone who always gasps at the wonders of the world. Someone who loves dancing and writing. Someone who dreams big but is full of worries — and that’s okay. Someone who feels deeply.

I don’t need to be the best of the best. I just need to live my life, love my beloved people, and continue doing the things that matter to me. I don’t need to be the best of the best; I just need to be me.

People like to tell you

What you’re gonna be is not my problem if you don’t see what I see

And I do not give a damn if you don’t believe

-”Are you satisfied?” by Marina