By Tuan Nguyen, Graduating Senior
Two days after my second COVID vaccine, my shoulder wanted to implode. My trapezius tendons felt like snapping, my deltoids wanted to detach clean off the bone and I couldn’t sleep until four that morning from the aching. A worrying shortness of breath appeared soon after. By evening, I couldn’t concentrate on anything else. My parents and I rushed to the ER.
EKG: normal. Lung x-ray: fine. Diagnosis: stress.
As I listen to my friends reviewing “Frankenstein” the night before AP Lit, I remember everything I once wanted my senior goodbye to say. I remember brainstorming ideas after reading my neighbor’s goodbye three years ago. I loved the idea of writing a senior goodbye—the idea of having a platform to share my wisdom garnered from four years at TCHS.
ILLUSTRATION/ Tuan Nguyen
Nguyen served as a Staff Writer, Focus Editor and Opinion Editor while in Rampage. He plans to begin his studies at Stanford University.
I hoped my goodbye would be my magnum opus, my departing guide for future seniors.
My freshman self would shake his head disapprovingly at how I’m now leaving my senior goodbye to this spontaneous train of thought.
Freshman Tuan embodied the Type-A personality. He joined tons of teams, planned the next eight years of his life and believed an Ivy League acceptance would guarantee him a fast pass to a six-figure salary. What else would a first-generation immigrant need to pay back his parents? He treated this plan like his purpose.
Senior me, despite a growing workload, became a Type-B person. I’ve settled into the chaos of last-minute planning, whether it’s club meetings or college applications. I made peace with the fact that my circumstances can change on a whim.
But have I accepted that my outlook on life has changed? Some part of freshman Tuan recognized there was more to life than giving back to everyone and keeping nothing for himself, but he didn’t acknowledge it. Now, I’m not the same kid I was as a freshman. I want a life that will fulfill me, not just others!
Senior year, I found myself spiraling down rabbit holes of increasingly aggressive questions aimed at myself and my new outlook. Was I disappointing my biggest supporters by abandoning my Type-A ways? Did I become a selfish person for now aspiring to be a researcher, with little prospect of paying back my parents? Was I betraying my past self, who grinded for years to land at a gilded East Coast institution, by choosing moments of rest over additional minutes of writing college essays? Am I going down the wrong path? These questions were, I think, the source of the stress that landed me at the ER.
The short answer to my questions: no. The long answer to my questions is that life is this Gordian knot of AP buzzwords like “complexity” and “sophistication”. Believing that I was going down the wrong path would be boiling down the enormity of life into “right” and “wrong” paths. No such paths exist, and I take joy in that. I don’t need to be always on my A-game to warrant a sense of fulfillment. I’m not any less deserving of a peace of mind when I’m not productive. I should be comfortable with my life and decisions without worrying about others’ expectations, even if those lofty expectations are well-intended.
Now that I’ve realized I don’t need to strike it rich to be fulfilled, have my efforts throughout my early years at TCHS gone to waste?
Not at all. I don’t look back on my years of high school with any regret. If it weren’t for my overeager freshman ambition, I wouldn’t have half the friends I have today, nor would I have made a fraction of the impact I’ve made. Even as I tamed my ambitions last minute, I don’t feel like I’ve negated any of my work throughout high school.
I understand now that I don’t have to follow through with ambitions that no longer exist. I don’t owe it to my past self, because my present self deserves to be free to discover himself and discover new goals to strive for.
I’ll allow myself the chance to slow down and breathe. I’ll breathe easy; life’s too short not to.