Being one of the top students in our school is not an easy responsibility. You live up to their expectations, desperate to make them proud. Many say that I'm smart and diligent in my studies, born to be a leader, and eloquent indeed. Well, that's what I hear from others, though I believe that it's not all true. What they don't know is the inner turmoil I face every single time. I live in fear—a fear of failure. I'm like a performer on stage, always facing a crowd, showing no weakness, and showcasing many talents. I am entertaining and pleasing people 24/7. Despite this, there are many things I hide behind the curtains. Backstage, I meet someone, though I can't really tell if I should describe it as a person. It's more of a something... something I've ignored for a long time, something so familiar. I never thought I would encounter it again. The thought of it haunting me honestly sends chills down my spine. So, I thought of ignoring it once again to continue performing without a hint of vulnerability. I knew it would go away and leave me alone somehow; that's how it had always been anyway... or so I thought. As I was performing, I could hear the faint sound of footsteps coming from the stairs of the stage. "No, no, it can't be," I thought. This was so messed up. Why was it back? I thought I had gotten rid of it for a while. The pressure built up as I performed on stage. It was slowly creeping its way up to me. No, not while I'm still entertaining people. Leave me alone. Suddenly, it made its way behind me. "Leave me alone, I can't do it if you're around." The same thoughts kept echoing in my head. My head was starting to ache as my heart began to pound harder in my chest. It was as if the figure was strangling me. I could hardly breathe. I knew I was going to fail and make a wrong move. Everyone would notice. Everyone would know that this was just a facade. I couldn't let them think I was weak. I couldn't let them think I was afraid. It would be too obvious. Until I came to a realization. The fear was never a physical figure; it was the intense stares I got from the audience. Nothing was creeping up behind me. It was just... a feeling. A feeling of pressure from people who watch my every move. If I made a mistake, I knew I wouldn't perform well again, simply because I'd be ashamed of myself. Turns out, it wasn't fear that I was trying to run away from. I was running away from myself—my very own identity. After playing multiple roles, I forgot who I am. I've always played the image of a hardworking and gifted student, but never the girl who simply loved learning. — ms. kae 2024 (note: I wrote this piece back in 2024. I was in 10th Grade back then. I honestly questioned myself a lot during this time, and I'm glad I overcame that same fear.)