Everyone talks about college like it’s the finish line.
Like once you get in, everything makes sense. Like motivation just appears the moment you know where you’re going.
But when I think about applications, I don’t feel excited. I feel tired.
The essays are supposed to be about who I am, but they feel like performances. I’m trying to sound passionate, driven, confident—things I’m not sure I feel anymore. I write about goals I’m still figuring out and strengths I learned to describe, even if I don’t believe them all the way. It feels like pretending I’m okay in a system that doesn’t leave much room for doubt.
Grades don’t feel like learning anymore. They feel like survival. Every assignment feels urgent, like one bad score could ruin everything. Teachers talk about “the long run,” but all I can see is the next deadline, the next test, the next thing I can’t mess up.
I’m scared that if I slow down, I’ll fall behind. Everyone else seems to be moving so fast—taking AP classes, joining clubs, stacking accomplishments. I keep telling myself to push through, that rest can come later. But later never comes. I’m already exhausted, and I haven’t even started college yet.
Sometimes I wonder what happens if college doesn’t fix this feeling. What if I get there and I’m still tired? What if motivation isn’t waiting for me on the other side of acceptance letters?
I want to care again without feeling crushed by expectations. I want to believe that my worth isn’t tied to productivity or perfect grades. I want to move forward without feeling like I’m running on empty.
I thought college would motivate me. Instead, it’s making me realize how burned out I already am—and how badly I need a way forward that doesn’t cost me myself.
