I went to an 'escalator' international school for most of my life. I enrolled when I was in kindergarten, moved away to Australia for a bit, returned to the same school in the third grade, and stayed until I eventually graduated. Grades one through eighth were more or less similar to any other school's general make up, but grades 9 and 10, and 11 and 12 were a little different. The IB (International Baccalaureate) program was offered for 11th and 12th graders; also known as the most difficult high school program basically equivalent to one's first year in college, it naturally became something younger students feared.

I wasn't a full IB student (I'm terrible at science so I couldn't take a science required for an IB diploma) and I'm not going to lie, I got a lot of sh*t for this. Out of a batch of 34 students, certificate (non-diploma) students were quite the minority. To be honest, I actually really hate thinking about those last two years of high school; a lot of it was great thanks to the memories I made with some friends I know I'll have for life, but academically, I hated going to school. I always felt like my teachers and fellow students looked down on me. During those two years I really thought that I was truly dumb or slow or that something was definitely wrong with me because I wasn't able to study and do the same things my friends could. I had a hard time keeping up with my studies and was emotionally and physically exhausted all the time. I didn't really know what I wanted to do with my life, and all the added pressure of having to figure it out now, where I wanted to go to college and having to prepare for exams was taking its toll on me.

What with all the classes I didn't take, I had some spare time on my hands. Most of the time I used this time for writing, catching up on shows, doing homework, and even eating or sleeping. It wasn't until my senior year of high school when I began exhausting my school's supply of fiction.

I had always liked to read. It was something that started and will end with my late father. Because of this, English had become somewhat of a breeze for me. It was the only subject I loved, the only one I was good at, and the only thing I could take pride in. Over time I had accumulated more and more books, and less and less time to read them. I don't exactly remember how it went but the summer before senior year, I picked up a book and from then on read from cover to cover until it was the beginning of a new academic year. When I returned to school, I began taking daily trips to the library to borrow books in my free periods. In all honesty, people were probably thinking I should have used that time to study, but senioritis got the best of me for most of the second half of that year, so I stopped caring what other people thought of me and did what I wanted to do. I think I finally understood what it meant to find a true escape from reality that year. Whenever I didn't want to deal with things I cracked open a book. Before I knew it, I was borrowing about 4 novels per week (I couldn't beat this record).

I never thought about being serious about English. All my life I had prepared to go off to a prestigious arts university to study music (a story for another time), I had no idea I would come to decide what I wanted to do with my life in the span of a year. Reading so much in so little time made me realize that that was what I enjoyed doing. I knew I was good at writing and editing (I was asked to edit 14 EEs that year; I was under more stress than the EE advisors probably were that week) and I'm pretty sure I owe that to how much I read. Even though it is an art in the opposite direction, I'm happy with what I've decided I wanted to do. I don't think I'm the typeof person who could live doing something I didn't like doing.

So if you don't know what you want to do with your life yet, or you're stressing the fuck out over school, take a deep breath from whatever it is you're doing and do something you love (or read to improve your English!) Remind yourself that whatever you're having trouble with is only there to make you stronger.

In short: treat yo'self.