I never would have imagined my life would turn out the way it has so far. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a pilot; unfortunately, I soon realized that I had a crippling fear of heights. After that, I thought I wanted to be a lawyer. I joined debate competitions in middle school and found quite a lot of success, but the thought of somebody’s freedom resting solely on my shoulders if I pursued criminal law was simply too much to bear. I then considered being a bioengineer, but found no fulfillment in it — I fooled myself into thinking I enjoyed biology simply because it was less of a struggle than other fields. When I entered KAIST, things remained the same; I found myself as clueless and indecisive as ever.

As a “gifted” kid, I never really struggled with anything during my formative years. My mom lauded all of my achievements but never pushed me to do more. Don’t get me wrong — I love my parents and I am extremely appreciative of how supportive they are of me no matter what path I choose. I’m sure some would kill to have parents like them. However, there’s no one size that fits all. I can’t help but wonder that I would have a stronger sense of identity if I received more guidance from my parents. Unlike other kids who knew from kindergarten that they wanted to be a doctor, I never really was passionate about something. So growing up, I found myself doing things simply because I was finding success in them. Unfortunately, as most KAISTians are painfully aware of, that’s just not sustainable.

In my directionless pursuit of success over the years, I have come to realize that I am a jack of all trades and a master of none. Accepting this reality did not come so easily for me. I have seen my peers go through the same process earlier in life, but I used to think I was different — that I would never have to come to terms with the seemingly pitiful limits of my capabilities. KAIST, however, is an ocean of talent far greater than I could have imagined, an ocean so deep that one can easily find themself drowning without even noticing it just like I did. No amount of witnessing my peers go through this experience could have taught me what I have learned from experiencing myself what it’s like to be a big fish leaving my tiny pond.

The realization that I am not nearly as good as I thought I was brought my spirits down far longer than I’d like to admit. Do I truly deserve to be in KAIST if I’m incapable of exceling? How did someone as pedestrian as I am even end up here? Questions like this filled my mind for hours on end, whittling away at my self-confidence until I had little left. I used to think that I never overestimated myself. In my mind, I simply knew what I was capable of.  KAIST, however, has a way of making us feel like impostors  — that we’re all just faking it until we make it. Like a severe overcorrection, I invalidated everything that I have poured my blood, sweat, and tears for when I saw myself plateauing. I doubted every tiny decision I made and became my own greatest enemy, endlessly criticizing myself to the point of defeat.

Fortunately, I have truly great people surrounding me who brought me back from my lowest points, reminding me that I am not here right now just because I got lucky. I am where I am because of all the weekends I spent in the study room. I am where I am because of all the countless drafts that I had to rewrite. I am where I am because I dared to risk the comforts of my home. The struggle to believe in myself is a difficult one, but it is one that I am facing head on. I know I’m not alone in this struggle, so I hope this crude piece of writing finds its way to everyone who needs a kind reminder that they are deserving as well. Remember, just because it seems difficult to imagine a future where you reach greater heights doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to stand where you are right now.