I think if I threw up right now, it wouldn’t be food spilling out—it would be a concoction of iced caramel lattes laced with the artificial tang of Fuji Apple Pear-flavored Celsius. My bloodstream feels more like a caffeinated river than anything remotely human.

I thrive on caffeine. Sure, it didn’t make up for the perpetual doomscrolling and sleepless nights I spent editing by APUSH LEQ essay. Nevertheless, it’s the fuel that gets me through the day. It’s not just a mix of espresso and caramel syrup—it’s a symbol of hustle culture. It’s the accessory you hold while rushing to class, the reward after a brutal test, and the exclamation, “Look at me! I’m doing it all.”

Being a teenager today feels like a circus act, a tightrope walk where the funambulist dazzles the crowd with their poise. Except there is no crowd for me to impress. It’s just me, alone on stage, wobbling under the weight of expectations I never chose to carry. Homework, test, and college prep pulls me in one direction. Friendships, fleeting moments of joy, and the search for identity tug me in the other direction. And yet, the world demands we swing perfectly between both. Slave away on homework. Volunteer weekly. Join every club—DECA, HOSA, you name it—and aim for gold. Campaign for student body president. Polish your resumé until it gleams. Impress college admissions committees. Don’t forget to party hard on the weekends. Be a loyal friend, but don’t let anyone get too close—they might derail your ambitions.

And whatever you do, make sure to document it. Snap that perfectly curated photo in a dimly lit alleyway, the kind that whispers effortless cool. Post it, and wait for the dopamine hit of a notification: RandomMutualUser2849 comments, “You’re thriving.” For just a moment, you believe it.

Social media promises connection, but it delivers comparison. Every scroll feels like tumbling into inadequacy, where someone is always better. If I were better, I could be like them. If I were like them, I’d be enough. At some point, you stop recognizing your own voice in the cacophony.

And yet, we thrive in that noise. I remember the late-night calls with my best friend. I remember finding a song that feels like it was written just for me. I remember the moment I read the words, “You are your best thing,” and how they settled in my mind, urging me to believe that I am more than the tightrope I walk.

I wish I could tell you how to preserve these moments. How to stop chasing validation in likes and achievements. How to step off the tightrope without collapsing entirely. But the truth is, I’m still learning to trust my own footing. Maybe that’s the charm of being a teenager today: not having it figured out but daring to take one wobbly step forward anyway.