During my freshman year, something possessed me to perform a cello solo in front of judges. This was my first year playing with an orchestra in person since the seventh grade, and I think the excitement got the best of me. 

My fake pride spread to all my peers and family, leading me to believe that the only way to proceed was to complete this solo. It was easy to say I would do such a thing, but every time I sat down with my instrument, nothing good came out. Rehearsing with an accompanist was torture, and I couldn’t figure out why. 

The day my solo came, I could not tell you how good or bad I did because I  blocked this entire experience out of my head. After I left my performance, I cried, a lot. These weren’t tears of accomplishment or defeat, they were heaps of stress leaving my body. Though I didn’t understand at the time why I felt like this, I feel like I know now. 

The pressure of making big decisions leads to irrational sentiments, doses of placebic reassurance and tons of “You’ve got this!” from friends, family and yourself. The more I spew to the people around me about something big that’s happening to me, the more of this feedback I get. I think that big decisions aren’t just major things that happen to a person; it also matters how we approach them. I didn’t have to do that solo, I didn’t have to prove anything to anyone. Yet, the unintentional, redundant questioning alongside this constant state of demand that I put myself into made this solo feel like a brick wall, and mining through was the only option. This mindset was incredibly degrading, and I still always fall into the same pit when put into similar circumstances. 

In one way, the pressure of my environment is what makes me believe that something is a big decision. In reality, it is all relative. This is why I have to read my surroundings to know how to take charge of a situation. 

This is my last year of high school, and it feels like every day is a big decision. This is because all my journaling and past selves dreamt of being in my position; it’s because all rom-coms seem to happen at this time. I know my time here is ticking until I have to make my next move, which many will see as a big decision. A year from now, no one knows where I will be. I can do everything to apply to my dream school, my friends around me can only tell me how much I deserve to be where I want to go, and yet no one can make this decision for me. 

I have learned so many strategies for how to decide things. From this year’s Homecoming theme to applying to Questbridge to what I will eat for lunch: all of these choices have all shown me how to deal with myself and others when it comes to finally deciding. 

I don’t know if I will get into Boston University, but I do know that I want tortillas with cheese tomorrow morning, and both of those things are entirely okay.