Personal Narrative Essay: Changing Conviction

Think about a time when you changed your mind about something. How can you know when to change a conviction you hold?

The other day while scrolling aimlessly through social media, I came across a video with the caption “I wish I could live in memories”. The video which was just 15 seconds long, was made by some random teenage girl and seemed to romanticize her life effortlessly. When I first read the statement, I immediately agreed, hoping and wishing that her statement could have been true. My mind quickly jumped to a place where my happiest memories would constantly replay and rewind, and I was momentarily transported to a place where nothing else mattered, simply because nothing else happened- besides from what I already knew. But as the video went on, jealousy consumed me. Jealousy of a life that wasn't mine, from a girl that I didn't even know. “Well, my life doesn't look like that, my memories probably aren't even worth sharing like that,” I said to myself over and over again. I kept thinking back to that statement, and maybe I do wish I could live in my memories. Not all of them, perhaps, but the ones that could make my life seem as beautiful from the outside as that girl did. Since, all I have been thinking about are my memories, from my first to my most recent, overanalyzing and anxiously questioning if they even would meet the criteria, for even being shared at all. 

For the record, I am a person with enormous control issues, the first thing I settled upon in my fictional world of memories, was the idea that I would get to choose. My control and decision would create the recipe for the memories that would circle in my head, forever. A constant maladaptive daydream full of things of my choosing does sound like something I would agree to do. A world where my constant need to control and organize would be eased because I would know what would happen and that no diabolical monster would be out to get me at the end. It would be a place where the failure I fear every day doesn’t exist. Like watching a movie where you already know the ending, which is the only way I watch movies and would allow me to narrow down my life to choices and memories that I already know and love. I could stay in my childhood forever, where I don't have to face bullies or homework or heartbreak or growing up at all. 

But then again, what would have happened if I had seen that video a year ago, or even two years ago? Would I have agreed then, without some of the happy memories that I have now, and what would make that list? So much has changed since two years ago, since a year ago, even since 6 months ago - in both good and bad. I’ve grown up more in my life in the past 6 months than I ever have in my other 15 years of life, even though we're currently in a pandemic where I can barely experience the true essence of my teenage years or my high school experience. 

I expect the act of growing up, and the maturity I’ve gained to only grow from here, taking my life experiences with it. That on its own holds more value and promise than limiting myself to young and childish memories does, as much as they do bring me comfort. 

I’m halfway through high school and already in a global pandemic that seems to have no promise of ever letting up is something that worries me. Maybe I should just stick to what I know, revert to childhood forever, and never have to worry about the future. Whether or not I’ll get into college, be a successful adult, get a good job, or be a good daughter to my parents. These thoughts dictate my every move, they consume me, they are me, more than anything else at this point. 

But my brain and the standards I have created lead me to believe that I have to. It doesn't matter if I’m scared or sad or have a change in plans. The goals of my future have been set since I was 6 years old. Go to a good college. Get a good job. Be successful. Be the best person, student, daughter, I can be. Because if you're not then you must have failed somewhere along the way. They are the fuel inside of me, or maybe the fuel is my fear of disappointment. Either way, should I really consider giving it up for my memories now? Stopping here, as a sophomore in high school with very little experience in anything besides school? 

Maybe that girl knows something that I don't. Something about life, something about how hers turns out that I don't know yet. Maybe her life is already beautiful and my life full of beautiful memories is coming. But right now I can certainly tell you my life, the montages in my head of even just the good, are ugly. My ugly smile and ugly laugh, stupid childish jokes, friends who aren't even my friends anymore.  

Sticking with my gut reaction, I do wish we could live in memories, but I want the beautiful ones. The ones I don't know yet, the ones that will come when least expected, the ones when I am at my peak.