As I drive up to the campus I've known since kindergarten, my stomach opens up a bottomless pit, and a circus of emotions emerges from it, bouncing up and down and all around for the one thing I dread the most: school. This constant feeling of dread has been pooling in my stomach since I was a kid, causing my leg to endlessly shake, my mind to run rampant with a million possibilities, and heavy, sporadic breathing. I experience this every day, even in simple, mundane situations. Despite the countless exercises and advice I have complied with late-night research, I can't seem to shake the feeling. Anxiety runs through my veins, pumping its black and alarmingly effective slime throughout my body, causing me to freeze up and go mute at certain and usually inconvenient times. As a little girl, everyone would call me "mature for my age" because of my quiet nature, but in reality, my insides were churning too fast for me to speak about anything. I would always be afraid to raise my hand in class, even when I knew I had the correct answer. I could never bring myself to make friends at the playground, always sticking close to my mom's side. I almost always decline friends' invitations to go out because I can't stomach the thought of being seen and heard. My mom would always scold me, "Why can't you just speak up?" and I felt utterly disappointed because I couldn't explain this feeling inside me, even if I wanted to. My experience can not be summed up into several paragraphs, and it's a challenge even to try. My whole life, I have just wanted to be normal. I've spent countless nights pleading and sobbing to God to fix me. Why can't I just talk to people? Why can't my mind just take a break? Why am I like this? I read to escape this dismal reality and live my life through the confident characters who can take down kingdoms while dolling out witty remarks to their charismatic love interest. I have accepted that this is the closest thing I will get to living without my countless overthinking and anxiety. The thought of college has always been my sort of pillar. When I was an optimistic pre-teen, I hoped high school would be the cataclysmic event that would change my entire personality and give me the confidence I so desperately wanted. Now, as an anxiety-riddled high schooler, college is that opportunity for me. It's my chance to pursue my passion and find others who share it. It gives me the chance to reinvent myself and not be seen as the "quiet, nerdy girl who is always running away from every social interaction." College is the opportunity to be the person, or at least try, that I dream of being. I want to overcome this constant fear of being human and live a life that I think is worth living.

"Where’s my fucking teenage dream?" Olivia Rodrigo so bluntly but passionately sings in her hit song Brutal. Every time I hear those words, I can't help but wince. As a kid, I’d lie awake at night, staring at the top bunk of my shared bed and listening to my sister’s soft snores. Silent tears would fall down my cheeks as I whispered to myself, “Once I’m a teenager, everything is going to be better, more fun.” Now, just weeks from my seventeenth birthday, I find myself far from the image I once had of my teenage years. I don’t have the cute boyfriend who loves every part of me. I haven’t lost the weight I promised myself I would (if anything, I’ve gained some). And, most importantly, I’m not completely and irrevocably happy. The “teenage dream” I envisioned has instead turned into more of a nightmare as the crushing weight of reality begins to settle in. The picture-perfect teenage life I imagined—complete with parties, perfect grades, a cute boyfriend, and the disappearance of my anxiety—has yet to materialize. Instead, I often find myself alone in my room, escaping the real world through books, living out my teenage experiences through the characters I read about. I blame the unrealistic portrayals in the books and movies I grew up on. As kids, many of us believe that becoming a teenager is like stepping into a fairy tale. But the truth is, only a few of us will live out that dream with the perfect high school experience—complete with a captain of the football team boyfriend, “body goals,” and wealthy parents. The rest of us? We’re stuck wrestling with anxiety, insecurities, and the uncertainty of what comes next. At least, that’s been my experience so far. The dream I once clung to is now tucked away in a box, hidden in the back of my closet, left behind with the naive hopes of my eleven-year-old self. Olivia Rodrigo’s Brutal captures this feeling perfectly—how the “golden years” aren’t always what we expect them to be. Lately, I’ve found myself riddled with anxiety, introverted, and, unfortunately, very nerdy. I have no romantic interests, very few friends, and I’ve yet to attend an actual party. The thought of talking to guys—or, really, talking to anyone—terrifies me. When my parents first heard the song, the first thing they said was, “Why does she sound so depressed?” I bit my tongue and held back my snarky response, but I realized they didn't understand. Being a teenager can be challenging, and for many of us, the dreams of what we expect to experience are continually crushed each day we wake up. Olivia Rodrigo uses this song as an outlet for these feelings and manages to relate to teenagers around the globe. She captures the true essence of adolescence in a single upbeat pop song, an astounding accomplishment for which I am ever so grateful as it puts my feelings into words in a way I could never have imagined possible.