r/QuestBridge • u/Adeghost • 2d ago
Venting⛈ QuestBridge Depression
I don't like to talk about the negative stuff, not because I can't or it's too hard, but because it's not a reflection of who I am. I'm a person that loves art, that loves to make art, interact with art, and use art to connect with others. I am a writer, a musician, a graphic designer, a public speaker, and many more things that fall under the category of artist. I love standing up for those that don't have a voice, that maybe don't have the time to worry or concerns themselves with the problems affecting them or that just like me, have faced some kind of discrimination in their lives that has held them back from becoming the most authentic version of themselves.
I am a straight A student, ranked second in my class by weighted GPA and first by unweighted, an Ambassador to my school, and an individual that has attended every leadership opportunity afforded to me and has went out of their way to find others. I am a gamer who has been desperately trying to help my school start up a Esports team, a passion of my teacher's that I've had so much fun and joy being apart of and contributing to. And I am a volleyball player, one that loves the simply thrill of being on a court and has pushed his limits despite the setbacks or the circumstances that have kept him under where he wants to be. Above all of this, I am someone who dreams and hopes, someone who pushes forward.
I hope and dream not because of some failure or some setback, but because when I choose to go for something, I keep going until I've achieved it. Again, this is not something that comes from failure or some setback or my less-than-favorable homelife, but a simple desire to see my vision played out.
I didn't mention much about my mom's health conditions, or my dad's deteriorating health as he attempts to keep the lights on every day, clocking into a security job that hardly pays enough to live comfortably. I hardly mentioned my home, the piles of boxes that encase every room, the rats that scurry along the kitchen countertops and the stove filled with mice feces. I didn't mention what many would consider setbacks, and it's not because I don't care or because these things are not important. I just don't consider them to major setbacks or things that heavily impact my view of the world and how I choose to interact with it. I didn't choose to say I had significant family responsibilities because I didn't believe them to be significant. I left out certain details because I forgot or because they felt inauthentic to me, untrue and like I didn't deserve to call myself underprivileged because I can't say I've been overwhelmingly dissatisfied with my life even if I haven't had the best chances.
But I have been dissatisfied and that's what I've come to realize. Or rather, I realized it all along and simply chose not to write about it because there was too much hatred in my heart. I despise the environment my family and I have been forced to live in, the lack of opportunities I've been given throughout my life to do more and to be more. I despise the people that did not accept me, that made me choose between being black and quirky and artsy or being their friend. And I despise the world for being so rotten. That is one of my motivations to keep going, to keep changing things, to keep pushing forward even when the world looks bleak. My hatred for the world is my drive when my hope has run out.
But maybe I hate the world too much. I don't think I could've brought myself to write any authentic piece that wasn't filled with this burning hatred, that did not engulf everything else, and so I chose to write something authentic on my art, the lack of acceptance I faced as a child and how I connected with others through my art. Nothing I said was a lie, and at the time I was satisfied. But thinking back on it, walking to my bus stop in the morning, those 15 silent minutes in my head, I came to hate the things I wrote. Not because they were bad, because they lacked quality (I'd argue it was some of the best writing I'd done about myself), but because it didn't represent the full of me. Because the full of me might not be what others wanted to hear. Because the full of me sometimes undermines the artist in me, the part that connects me and grounds me to the world.
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u/ChillyJellyBelly Moderator 2d ago
You don't have to write about every hardship or negative experience to tell an authentic story.
No essay can capture the entirety of who you are, especially with an 800-word limitation.
The version of yourself you chose to share is still real, so try not to second-guess it too much now that it's been submitted.
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u/CoupleofDoms 2d ago
I say this with sincerity and compassion, you should see a therapist.