LUNCH CATCH-UPS are a crucial affair once you enter your twenties. These sporadic meetups typically consist of important life updates and sensible discussions about the future. As I sit across from my friends, recalling the highlights and goals I’ve yet to achieve, I find myself lingering on my failed commitments.
Whether it be my abandoned instruments or the badly crocheted plushies that sport half a face, a sense of dissatisfaction washes over me at the thought of letting these prospects go to waste before they could turn into something fruitful.
Yet, the unbridled embarrassment that comes with being an amateur outweighs this feeling. Of course, I keep my half-baked attempts at trying something new out of our lunchtime conversations.
I have always been a decisive person. From my career paths to my passions, everything has amounted to years of constancy that intimidate me from starting all over again. Whether it be a personal project I’ve dreamt of actualizing or a hobby I’ve wanted to try out, the prospect of being at the starting line exposes me to the mortification of being mediocre.
I realize much of my discomfort toward mediocrity traces back to an intense feeling of shame—that as an adult, your curiosities are only important when they have the clear potential to be excellent and worthwhile. I find myself seeing commitments as a game of gains and losses. I question whether I can afford to be an amateur at an age when I’m pressured to believe that I should be nothing short of exceptional.
Oftentimes, it’s easy to safeguard myself from embarrassment by walking away the moment I show inadequacy. Yet the hubris of wanting immediate, unearned brilliance comes at a hefty price.
Despite writing for most of my life, many of my personal works are left unfinished the moment they prove to be more challenging than expected. In fear of—god forbid—producing something subpar, my trail of words run cold, remaining only as potential. The promise of who I can and ought to be is left as a question mark that lingers over coffee dates and catch-ups.
As a twenty-one-year-old with many years ahead of her, I fervently hold onto the idea that the embarrassment of being mediocre can knock down the earnestness of wanting to be more. It feeds the myth that my best self is paved with effortless talent and natural prowess, as I limit myself at the mercy of being seen as incapable by those around me.
So much tenacity is needed to sincerely and ardently pursue something even with the fear of falling short. While I can’t guarantee that putting in effort will amount to anything, the regret of not trying at all feels worse than my shame.
There is no glory to be found in avoiding failure, only the wandering question of who I could have been past my twenties and the knowledge that I have abandoned these possibilities altogether.
Mika is a Psychology junior at the Ateneo de Manila University expecting to graduate in 2026. With a special interest in pop culture and feminism, she hopes to use empathy and compassion as a lens to evaluate the lived experiences of others to create and amplify narratives that reflect these stories.
Editor’s Note: The views and opinions expressed by the opinion writer do not necessarily state or reflect those of the publication.
