The independent news organization of Duke University
There are times when I worry that my genuine interest in a language that is so inextricably intertwined with popular culture might be disdained and misconstrued as the fanatical obsession of a “Koreaboo”, so much so that I shy away from opportunities to practice it with others.
Sophomore year is a strange, awkward and uncomfortable phase to be in, one in which the rhythm of college I settled into as a freshman has been plunged into utter chaos.
I was ashamed of not making full use of the plethora of resources available, and worried that my decision to sit out on many “core” experiences was diminishing the value and authenticity of my college experience—that it made me less of a Duke student.
I quietly clung onto the selfish hope that everything could be frozen in time so that leaving could be as simple as hitting pause and returning, as effortless as picking up from where I left off.
This time, no longer shackled by my overthinking tendencies, I will be brutally honest if I must and less afraid to infuse my writing with more personality.
The most difficult part of being a Duke student for me isn’t the classic case of being afflicted with imposter syndrome—I have enough confidence in my abilities to know that I deserve to be here. Rather, it is the frustration of not being able to fully leverage the plethora of resources at my disposal, of being hamstrung from reaching my full potential by something as “trivial” as anxiety.
Tearing down the walls I had built around me and allowing others to enter the private fortress where my innermost thoughts and emotions resided was exhilarating and unnerving in equal measures.
Being alone most of the time meant that I was forced to befriend myself, and as I got to know her a little more, I grew comfortable with her.
At some point, I got sick and tired of running on this prison of a hamster wheel, of endlessly chasing after this feeling called “happiness” that seemed increasingly nebulous and unattainable.
Santa may not have left a present at the foot of my bed last Christmas, but in many ways, he had already given me the greatest gift of all—a gift that will keep on giving long after he is gone.