the truth behind self doubt

it’s funny how I only find myself writing on medium where something sad happens. it might seem like such a small deal but a small thing can seem to shape your views on the future at such a young age. for me, it is getting 20/36 on a Spanish test. yes, I was reckless. yes, I knew the material. did I remember it? fuck no, but I knew enough. I doubted myself on that Spanish test (a para empazar test, to be exact) and I’ve learned more about myself waiting for that C+ to show up on the grade book and seeing it with my own eyes than I did any other time I was alive.

my parents pushed me to be the bigger person, the best person, the only person that mattered. for some time, I tried. it wasn’t hard at first, elementary school and middle school went by a breeze, but then the harsh, competitive reality of high school hit me. I don’t consider myself dumb, but I’m not a wiz kid either. the high school I go to is extremely competitive. if you were accepted into a UC (other than Riverside and Merced) you were considered pretty average. my marks were high last year, a 4.0 GPA, and this 20/36 seemed like the end of the world for me. I’m not mad about my mom or my dad yelling at me over a small memory test, and I know that I can raise it back to at least an A-, but the reality of me being capable of so much more and achieving so much less is too real for me to experience. I’ve always tried to give my best and I’ve always been told to set the bar. when you find out that you’ve got the lowest score in the class when at one point you’ve gotten one of the highest score at a state competition, it hits you. hard. as of now I’m sitting in bed and it’s 9:23 PM. I don’t even want to cry, I want to sleep and hope it’s a dream. nothing is worse than the feeling of knowing you are not capable of something. the failure may seem like a sad sight, but failing and knowing that you could’ve done better is worse.