Favourite Quote — We are all growing up

What is failure?

Insert another generic quote about not giving up

When I grew up, I always thought it was a load of crap—who cares? When society defines "success" as the end goal, are we truly punished for making mistakes? Does not giving up matter?

Before you roll your eyes at me, I don't want to tell you a sad story about how I struggled or resort to another common essay trope. Instead, I hope you will momentarily step into my shoes and view things from my perspective.

My extracurriculars are pretty nice if I do say so myself, but when I was 15, I didn't realise that I would make a decision that would change my worldview. It wasn't to cure cancer or end world hunger, but it was 2 clicks on my laptop, just a mere two clicks.
I decided to open a folder on my Desktop.

What did this folder contain? Every acceptance and rejection email meticulously saved. It took me six grueling hours to sort through my emails. Each email with served as a stark reminder of the things I once took for granted — things that had become almost expected or insignificant. But to think less than a decade ago, I would have nearly cried at the opportunity.

Looking back, I couldn’t be more grateful for the rejections. Without them, I would’ve escaped this inferiority complex of not pursuing or being in something prestigious.

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As I sat there, staring at my screen filled with those acceptance and rejection emails, it hit me like a ton of bricks. These weren't just any email — they were like markers in some of the key chapters of my life.

That now-filled folder contained more than just emails; it was a reflection of my ambitions, a mirror of my efforts, and a glimpse into the rollercoaster of my emotions. Going through each of those emails was like going back in time, a flashback to the paths I failed, the challenges I lept over, Each click was a step back in time, as if I was reading pages of a memoir that I never knew existed.

In those moments of nostalgia, the weight of those emails lay not in their text but in the emotions they stirred within me — pride, disappointment, hope, and a stubborn kind of determination — all mixed in a melting pot that made me — me.

When I closed that folder, I did not merely go back in history; rather, I relived some of the happiest and most destitute parts of my life, but this time I felt a warm stream of tears landing on my lip, the feeling was almost soothing, as if I knew exalted the beauty of the process, and found solace in MY life's diverse experiences.

What it made me realise was that,

Comparison was the actual thief of joy