REFLECTION OF EXPECTATION

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"Yes, you did it... you're in Rank 5 again," my friend said so cheerfully.

I wish I could be as cheerful as her after this...

I really want to be a part of this list. I looked at the piece of paper I was holding, and there I saw my name,

On the third line...

"This is not what they want," I said while looking at the piece of paper in my hand."I will go somewhere; you can go home first," I said to my friend. She seemed to notice the sudden changes in my mood.

"Are you okay?" She asked with a caring voice. "Do you want to talk about it?" She added. I could see the concern on her face.

"I'm okay; I just want to be alone for a moment," I answered. She seemed unconvinced, though I just smiled at her and headed to the place where I always go whenever I need time to think.


On my way to the backside of the school, I saw some higher years bullying a freshman near the gymnasium's players' headquarters. Usually, I would go there and stop them, as I am the student council president.

Yes! I am the president, I am also the head of the science committee. I am the class monitor, and I am an active member of a bunch of clubs. I am a consistent honor student.

In their eyes...
I am perfect,

I have everything,
I am a role model;
they would say.
But, nothing do they know...

Or do they even want to know?

I ignored the bullying scenario because right at this moment. I have a bigger problem that I need to deal with. I reached the place that has been calming me in situations like this.I sat down on the stairs and faced the direction where I can see the field.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the school field. I took a deep breath, trying to find solace in the familiar sight.

I stared at the piece of paper with my name on it, the weight of expectations bore down on me. Rank 3 was an impressive achievement, but it wasn't what they wanted.


The expectations, the titles, the distinctions; they all seemed like a deception,a mask that hid the struggles beneath.

I couldn't shake the feeling that I was living up to everyone's expectations except my own.The ideal of perfection had become an endless cycle leaving me exhausted and questioning the things that I really wanted.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice that someone had joined me on the stairs.

"Long day?" A woman asked with a knowing smile on her face. I don't know who she is, and it's the first time I saw her here in the school compound.

I just shrugged my shoulders as a cold response; I don't want to be the perfect girl at the moment.

"You seem to be stuck in a shadow," she said, which made me look at her."Do you care about the numbers that much? or is it about something else?" She asked again with a hint of care in her tone.

I don't know what got into me, but looking at her made me tell her everything. I hesitated before pouring out my sentiments, describing the suffocation I felt under the weight of expectations of my parents, my teachers, and everybody who knows me. She just listened attentively, nodding occasionally.

"You know," she said, "sometimes people are so occupied living up to what others want them to do, who they want them to be, and act how they want them to act that we forget to ask ourselves; what we truly want."

"It's not about what I want; it's about what they want me to be," I said to myself.
"But I'm afraid to disappoint them," I answered with a low tone showing all the burden and my own disappointment for myself.


"You're afraid to let them down, so you're torturing yourself?" she asked, which made me question myself.

"Am I really tormenting myself just to show them what they want?" I said to myself and thoughts begun to circle my mind over and over again.

"Look up into the sky and the wall you built, not just the floor where you are now and the people you see," she said, that makes me confused.

"Imagine you're in a room with a spotlight on you and a big mirror in front," she added. "Okay?" I just answered.
"The spotlight is them watching you and making you do what they want; your reflection in the mirror is the projection of what and where they exactly want you to be. You've been focusing so much on living up to their expectations that you've forgotten to acknowledge the shadow behind you that holds onto who you really are."

As I pondered her words, the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink. It was a breathtaking sight, a reminder of the beauty that existed beyond the bars of their expectations.

"You don't have to sacrifice your happiness for the sake of others' perception," she continued. "You are more than just a rank, a title, or a role. You're a person with dreams and the right to be true to yourself."

"You've still got a long path you need to take," she said, with a warm smile.
"But you can take your time; you're young, and life isn't a race. It's about finding your own route and tempo," she added, her eyes filled with understanding.

"How should I start then?" I asked. "To live doing what I like?"
She didn't answer me right away; she stood up and stretched her arms.

"What you can do right now is to stop being a Reflection of Expectation and start to acknowledge  the shadow of your dreams and life's possibilities," she said while looking at me seriously.

"I gotta go; your friend is waiting for you!" she added and stepped down the stairs while waving her hand.

I looked at the piece of paper in my hand, realizing that the numbers on it didn't define my worth. The mysterious woman's wisdom began to unravel the knots of pressure and expectation that had bound me for a long time.

With newfound clarity, I stood up, prepared to confront the challenges ahead of a new journey that I would take. As I walked back towards the school building, my friend approached with concern still etched on her face. I knew she wouldn't leave without me.

"I needed that time alone," I explained, a genuine smile replacing the facade of perfection."I'm here for you, you know; just tell me anything," she said."I know," I replied, grateful for the support.

Days have passed...

In the following weeks, I started making small changes in my life. I embraced activities that genuinely brought me joy, rather than those that aimed to meet others' expectations.
I stepped down from a few roles and clubs that didn't align with my passions, making room for activities that fueled my creativity.

The mysterious woman's advice wavered in my thoughts, and I began seeing life not as a race to fulfill expectations but as a journey to discover myself. I sought reassurance in the things that truly mattered to me, nurturing genuine connections with friends who supported my dreams.

Over time, my new perspective began reflecting on various aspects of my life. People noticed the change; a shift from a perfect projection to a genuine reflection. My grades didn't change, in fact, they remained high, but this time, they were accompanied by a sense of fulfillment and all the negativity was gone.

The mysterious woman was nowhere to be found, and I couldn't help but wonder if she was a figment of my imagination, a guiding spirit that appeared when I needed her the most.

I am now in the same spot where I met her, The only difference is I am here not because I am down; but because I am happy. The school field bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun, I felt a sense of accomplishment. The journey ahead was uncertain, but I was ready to face it as the person I had become—a reflection of my dreams and possibilities, casting a shadow of realism on the path ahead.



-Mist

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