𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖲𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗌 || 𝖣𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖬𝗈𝗆𝗌

Showdown in Pittsburgh

What is worse? Ambition? Or determination?

From an outside perspective, you would only need to hear the word "ambition" to immediately assume that that option is worse. The word is usually used to describe an individual who is borderline obsessed with achieving something. On the other hand, the word "determination" sounds like a good guy word. That other word is usually used to describe an individual who has made up their mind about something and is now going to get through the obstacles to achieve the ultimate goal.

However, it could not be farther from the truth. In reality, ambition means having the desire to achieve something that is difficult to complete, while determination means refusing to let anything prevent someone from achieving something they want. Sometimes, refusal can be the very key to your doom. It may sometimes seem heroic and impressive, but refusal usually comes from obsessiveness, and obsessiveness is a very big sin that could ruin your life.

Now that the two words have been cleared up, when does someone cross the line between ambition and determination? Is it a big moment of realization, or does it simply happen on a random day?

For a while, I described myself as an ambitious individual. I always sought something more and strived to achieve what was out of reach. In some cases, I may have even been greedy. Even with all of the things I had, I wanted more. It never felt like I had enough–Like I was enough. There was always something else out there that I desired, and I wouldn't stop at anything until I reached it. Unbeknownst to me, I was merely determined that entire time, and I felt like an impostor. I felt as if I didn't belong where I was, or as if I didn't deserve what I rightfully and hard-workingly earned. I always depended on what other people said about me, and I always wondered where it had first come from.

Despite all that, I had big dreams from a very young age. Like nearly any other child, I pictured myself doing various things throughout the years. At first, I wanted to be a veterinarian. I had always wanted a pet, and I always wanted to take care of other animals, so I thought it would be a great job for me when I grew up. Nonetheless, it all slowly faded away when I decided I wanted to become a prima ballerina. The mere thought of dancing around in tutus all day made me excited, but we all know that's not how it truly is. That is why, later on, I wanted to become a studio owner. I wanted to manage a place where people could learn all types of dance, and I wanted it to feel like one big family. Also, I have to admit that I really wanted to choreograph new routines all the time and get to pick out the costumes. It would have been like my own little dollhouse, but with ballerinas instead.

Eventually, I wanted to be a professional dancer. I wanted to be known out there as an outstanding performer. I wanted to perform at award shows or be at very important performances where the most important people watched. At times, I even wanted to go on Broadway. I wanted to stand out on a stage, singing and dancing while pretending to be somebody I wasn't–

I had my first few formative years in the two-thousands decade, so a lot of songs about dreams coming true played on the radio every morning on the way to school. One of the songs that always stuck with me was "Lucky" by Britney Spears. It always captured my attention from the very beginning since I considered it to be similar to "Oops!... I Did It Again," and I loved that song. But there was something about the former that automatically made it become one of my favorite Britney songs. Back when I was seven, I was sure it was the first chorus after the bridge, but as I grew older, I realized it was all about the lyrics.

Another song that took my seven-year-old self's ears by storm was "When I Grow Up" by The Pussycat Dolls. From the first few listens, I knew that my favorite part of the song was, indeed, the lyrics. There was just something about the chorus that made it so exciting to listen to.