Dear Ambition,
Recently I stumbled upon my 9th grade resume. It was three pages long and meticulously formatted. All the bases were covered in big, bold headers. Academics, Honors, Extracurriculars. Et al. Each category was fully fleshed out, as if I were ticking off boxes on the “well-rounded” checklist. And although you probably don’t remember this now, you were the one who wrote that checklist for me all those years ago.
You were always the dreamer. Remember those nights when you would whisper to me the plans you had for the future? You painted visions of fast-moving individuals and glamorous careers—of cocktail parties, penthouse dinners and beautiful cities full of shining lights. I was mesmerized by your illustrations.
You and Perfectionism were best friends then. You two were constantly thinking two steps ahead, pushing each other to unattainable standards, riding the rollercoasters of failure and success. I tagged along, never quite able to catch up. But you had faith in me. You told me that there were greater things in store for us…that paradise was on the other side of the hill. I believed you.
The day I got accepted to Harvard I was in tears, crying so hard in the middle of Physics that I never read past the word “congratulations.” And yet, somehow, you took the whole thing in stride. You reassured me that everything was falling into place, with the sort of composure I wished I could replicate. Somehow you knew then what I’m just now seeing—that a Harvard acceptance letter was just the beginning.
Of course, you’ve matured since we first met. Before you were always so sure of everything. Now you’ve admitted that you don’t have all the answers. For the first time, you’re not sure what direction to take moving forward. It’s no longer as simple as excitement or money or success; you want a life that’s fulfilling in ways that you can’t articulate. Today you’re looking at different maps, unsure of where to go. But one day, I promise we’ll figure it out together.
Dear Ambition, we’ve been friends for so long that you’re a part of me now. You have your flaws, certainly, but in the grand scheme of things I trust your judgment. I’ve always followed your example, and you’ve never steered me wrong. And in all the years that I’ve known you, you’ve always had impeccable taste.
So thank you. Thank you for staying classy, for being there for me, for coming through when the chips were down.
You were always right. I’ve since learned not to doubt.
Yours,
Yehong