I’m 19 and I’m nervous about my future. There’s so much pressure. In high school, the rush was to get into a good college, join clubs, and get good grades. College admission defined my path. I didn’t think farther than that.
I only had one dream: to make Guam a better place.
I chose the college offering the best financial aid; I got what I wanted. Majoring in biology and joining a sport that provided a scholarship. I was less proud and more terrified. Not a thrill-ride: no, it was an ugly monster I didn’t know how to fight or befriend.
I found it: the spark. It led me to pour myself into presentations, relationships, and journals filled with dreams. I was ready to conquer the world because I understood my potential and believed in myself.
This same spark filled my soul — it made me who I was. Excited. Passionate. In school, I was number eleven, a well-known social butterfly and advocate, in a serious five-year relationship. I was running with no breaks.
Once I got into college, the spark mutated into fear, homesickness, and guilt. 5,500 miles away from home, I was one of few to go off-island for college in my school. Rank didn’t matter, resume wiped clean, relationship ended. Restarting, I worried I was falling behind.
Instead of As without studying, I got Fs while studying. Meeting people with better backgrounds, advantages, and grades. I was failing school and life.
I didn’t think I was the best on Guam, but I thought I was special. Only to find out, I’m a failure — didn’t even get a headstart.
My athletic career concluded; resulting in disability, chronic pain, and no scholarship.
My spark had died, and it seemed I had died with it.
New to the states, little family, single again, I couldn’t concentrate. Sleepless nights from severe pain. The notion that I couldn’t fit in etched itself in my bones, digging my grave deeper till I only found dirt in my lungs with no one to grieve the loss except myself.
In my grief, I turned to bulimia and addiction to cope. I lost friends and family who felt helpless and frustrated.
They would ask me, “What happened to you?” Just a knot in my throat as an answer.
I almost gave up.
When you lose everything and everyone, you’re supposed to keep fighting, like an awe-inspiring battle, but I let them win.
There should be a positive turnaround here but there’s none. I still struggle every day, but I am my only advocate — no one else.
I asked myself how to get back the spark, questioning my morals, ethics, and happiness. Choosing between happiness or stability and glory.
What was next in my life? I’d ask myself. I knew the answer, and I knew it would disappoint the people I love. The excited expressions from being a STEM major would lead to disappointment when they realized I’d changed.
I cried a lot.
About the helplessness I was feeling, the anxiety about my future, the fear of peaking in high school, the guilt of losing everyone, and the realization that my future was doomed.
I hated myself.
Then I asked myself: what was I living for?
The spark.
With a slap across the face, gritting my teeth, I made a deal with my dad. Apply for this STEM scholarship and have a full-ride internship — a plan my family would be happy with — or change my major with their disapproval… but I would be happier. Obsessively waiting for a response, I wanted the only thing I kept receiving: failure.
When I finally got my response, “Congratulations, you failed!” I was free.
Remember that dream about making Guam a better place? I decided to become a social worker.
This isn’t a fantastic essay about how I’ve gotten my happy ending. No, I haven’t, yet.
But this is the first step to getting better.
Trust me, I’m still figuring it out. I have bills to pay, pain to manage, grades to keep up. But Social Work feels like home, and I think I’m starting to see the spark again.
Weak but glowing, it feels familiar. I almost wanted to cry when I saw them again — there you are, I thought.
I’m 19 and I’m worried about my future. But I think I’ll be okay. And I hope one day the spark is strong enough to bring back the passion I’ve missed — and a passion to think more about my future.
Life is unexpected. You lose your spark, you lose yourself, but then you find it again, even if it’s weaker.
To whoever is reading this: there is light in the darkness. Go out there and find your spark. Or don’t — you get to choose.
That’s the beauty of life.
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