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Agnese DelVecchio, ’25. Vignette.

The secret to my success was always quite simple – be yourself. For me, that meant being a confident, easy-going, hard-working, smart young lady. That meant laughing too loud and too quickly at dad jokes. It meant talking to people sitting quietly alone, whether they wanted to talk to me or not, and playing with my siblings on trampolines. It meant raising my hand to answer, despite my hatred of being put on the spot, just so a teacher won’t have to repeat the question. It meant reading while walking and jumping whenever anyone shouted “hi!” It meant following my friends around with a camera and laughing when they willingly posed for the shot. It meant being myself. 

Lately, I’ve seemed to struggle with that, which could be blamed on this feeling of stress for my sophomore year. I worry it’ll be too much—all the tests, homework, and classes. I fear I’m going to crack. Despite how I used to romanticize high school, there is a load of work and constant pressure to be the best. It gets underneath my skin and crawls around, it whispers to my soul a song of Envy. It’s a quiet song, one I tend to tune out. But some days, at my weakest, when I’m drowning in a lake of work, I hear it loud. I hear the reminders of my peer’s achievements ringing in my ears, its smooth patronizing voice reminds me of my inadequacy. I hear the notes of sadness and the lyrics of self-doubt.

This song attacks the core of who I am, my confidence. Without that, I will never shout loud enough for any of them to hear me before I drown. Who I am will fade into the background in order to make room for every note of Envy’s song. I worry I will lose myself. I just found and began to love her— I can’t bear to lose her. I have come too far these past years to start from scratch again. Everything around me is changing, so I’d like to take comfort in myself. If I know nothing else, let me please at least know myself.