What is success?
What is success?
Is it worth this
Unrest?
These sweaty palms
And
This overactive heart; I
Nervously bite
My fingers and savor
The pain
Just because it
Keeps me awake —
What is success?
Is it worth this
Unrest?
Drooping lids and
Dry, blue lips;
I’d meant to sleep, I’d meant to eat
I’d meant to drink but it just
Slipped
My mind because I
Can barely walk in a straight line; for
The only thought
That marinates
In my brain is of all of the work
I have on my plate
All the work
That is already late
All the work
I do all day
That I can never finish
Because it never goes away
What is success?
Is it worth this
Unrest?
Will I get out of this mess with
My shoulders still attached to my head?
Will I obtain a diploma
Without permanent indents
Underneath my eyes and
Mangled hands?
Is any of this even
Making a shred of sense?
Or will I laugh
When I read this four years from now, will I be amused by how weak I’d been?
I penned this shadow of a poem at the cusp of a mental breakdown. Being a first-year at such a selective school and out of the most selective applicant pool in that school’s history felt like an accomplishment foreign to me. Upon talking to some peers, I realized that while this feeling isn’t verbalized, it’s something shared between a lot of us.
Quintessential questions like “do I belong?” or “will I make it?” or even “do I deserve to be here when everyone else seems so put together and I don’t?” have broiled my brain this past month. Hailing from a pandemic graduating class of a high school that had been virtual since March 2020, even the simple act of physically going to class remains subconsciously jarring, and, having been in quarantine mode for so long, it’s almost too easy to sideline work for social activities.
It’s almost too easy to have a good time while the homework steadily compounds, it’s almost too easy to rationalize my procrastination with an “I’ll do it later,” only to regret it when “later” comes, and I’m hit with the whiplash of all the assignments I’d assumed I’d have more time to complete.
Conversely, there have been days I’ve spent hours upon hours in the library, only to have barely made a dent in my workload. I’ve spoken to people who pull all-nighters, shoot caffeine like whiskey, and share the same predicament — the work is never done.
Will the work ever be done? And what is success? Is it worth this unrest?
College stress is so commonplace that it seems almost too trivial a topic to write a column about — and yet, because it’s so obvious, it’s also left unpacked, unsaid, and unopened, like an unwanted package. However, while the aspect of stress is shared, it’s essential to remember that success is subjective.
Success is, to quote the Oxford Dictionary, the “accomplishment of an aim or purpose,” but that doesn’t confine it to the abstract and grand. Success can be as simple as waking up in the morning or remembering to eat breakfast or drink enough water. It can be taking time to go to the gym or getting enough sleep.
It can also be attending class and completing assignments, but success is never one-and-done. It’s the product of repetitive, consistent effort and represents a myriad of pursuits. It isn’t meant to be easily attainable, but neither is it wholly unattainable. The fluidity of success is matched by how fervently one seeks it out.
~ Maaheen Shaikh `25
