The Prisoner of Self-Doubt | Teen Ink

The Prisoner of Self-Doubt

October 17, 2023
By Kyan115 BRONZE, Manchester, Connecticut
Kyan115 BRONZE, Manchester, Connecticut
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Eager to escape confinement, a prisoner can be found banging on the steel bars of his abominable cell. No matter how loud the prisoner's desire to be set free was, he was truly alone. No one could hear his desperation. He may not have had the strength of Superman but he had the courage of a courageous knight. Regrettably, his inhuman-like courage wasn’t enough. Loneliness and self-sabotage consumed him from head to toe like an unstoppable disease. I can only imagine that you are wondering who this prisoner is. I am talking about myself. My brain is trapped behind the walls of my own head. While there may not be a literal human being banging on the walls of a prison cell, there are a countless amount of thoughts and eternal feelings fanatical to execute a successful verbal escape. It seems that my life consists of an infinite loop. The unfortunate loop goes a little something like this. I surpass an astronomical life obstacle and then I am almost instantly met with a false sense of security that I can achieve sure happiness but the very moment I learn to fly I am shot out of the sky like a hunter shooting ducks. I begin to question my self worth. I ask myself “what is wrong with me?” It never fails to boggle my mind that I could feel so alone despite having an unbelievable amount of people who care for my well being. College feels like a mental torture chamber. No matter where I turn I am reminded of the person I can’t be. My entire high school experience consisted of hope and personal growth but within a couple months of college that growth has completely deceased. I feel like a flower that nearly blossomed but lost all of its water when it was just about to bloom. I want it to be okay to feel vulnerable. I want to receive therapy without feeling like an alien to society. Why are my emotions so foreign to everyone else? I guess feelings are meant to be silenced. As the days go by, my art form feels more and more unnecessary. What’s the point of playing the piano if personal expression feels like an illegal crime?

My passion for music stemmed from its ability to disconnect me from the outside world. It teleported me to a place of tranquility. As of recently, that ability has been slowly fading away. There is now this pressure to create music that everyone else will enjoy rather than something that satisfies my personal musical endeavors. There was a point in time where slouching over with my head down as my fingers danced on the keys brought me happiness but now that seems like such a distant memory. Happiness is fragile. Think of it as an object you would find in an antique shop. It is beautiful to grasp but can shatter when you least expect it to. Just like any antique it is quite easy to create a believable rip off of a rare item. I could fool a mind reader into thinking I was the most joyful soul on the entire planet. For me, Halloween is celebrated year round. The main difference is that I’m not wearing these different masks for the simplistic reward of candy but instead for the reward of social acceptance. Everyday I am portraying a different variation of myself. I have a vast assortment of costumes in my wardrobe. I aspire to someday achieve authenticity in my personal identity. A faultless morning where I wake up and leave my mask on my nightstand unforgivingly haunts my imagination. These mental trials I have been experiencing are a natural occurrence. I need to come to terms with the fact that these trials aren’t going anywhere. This deranged concept we call life will continue to throw curve balls at me until the day I die and it is my responsibility to make sure that I catch them. It isn’t always about how well you roll with the punches but rather how well you recover from taking the strikes. You could be the greatest boxer in the world and still get knocked down. So instead of dwelling on the pain, I will embrace it. These scars tell the story of who I truly am. Living to fight another day is the only way to discover what I am truly made of. Self-reflection is absolutely vital in times like these. Even though my emotions can feel impossible to deal with sometimes, I should never let them drag me down and hinder my self worth.


The author's comments:

I wrote this piece in a time where I lacked hope for my own abilities. I began to stop appreciating the things I enjoyed in life. I hope this essay gives a accurate representation of what self-doubt feels like.


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