A lovely Trip for the Fall by Amanda

A lovely Trip for the Fall by Amanda - December 2022 Scholarship Essay

Crash! Boom! Plump! The tiles cracked and the walls concaved. I lay paralyzed as the once uninterested students of first-period AP physics burst with gasps and concealed giggles. The aching of my pride took a bigger toll on my shameful self than the aching on my behind. I had always tried chewing gum or drinking water to stay awake during class, who knew that falling off a 3ft stool in one swift spill was the secret to day-long alertness? The moment plays in my nightmares, making me flinch as I’m about to succumb to sleep. I’m forced to watch a replay of me, a naïve and oh-so-stupid junior, learning the hard way that balancing on any seat, especially a lengthy, thin, backless stool, is never a good idea. I felt myself lean backward, trying to keep still on top of the understudy chair. There was nothing I could do but feel myself sink to the floor, but it felt closer to falling into a pit of lava, a black hole, or a never-ending tunnel of humiliation. I was on the ground, with a developing soreness and hands covering my red hot face. I stayed on the floor for a while, giggling through the shock and processing my failure, shaking with adrenaline. It felt like the entire school heard me crash and burn, but nonetheless, I recovered, mainly emotionally, and although the ordeal doesn’t strike me as often, I was and am painfully reminded of its lesson in various situations in my adolescent life.

If you try to balance under improbable circumstances, you fall, it’s really as simple as it sounds. The back legs of the stool couldn’t stand on their own, the physics of it (ironic) makes the possibility merely impossible. Plus, on top of slippery floors, and with my whole body leaning its way, the stool never had a chance. I knew staying up went against the rules of gravity, still, I attempted, and still, I toppled. And unfortunately, it took me numerous falls in 2022 to figure out how to balance. No, I don’t mean literally repeats of the event, I mean the complete decline and plunge into internal turmoil. In 2022 I lost my balance quite a few times. It didn’t feel as simple as following off the stool. My balancing act could be compared to a circus performance. Welcome to the stage, Amanda! The girl who thinks nothing can make for fall! My circus act for 2022 began.

I tried to stand on top of books. Books homework and required readings, papers of tests, and worksheets. I stood on them just fine, until I tried to juggle. I juggled as many clubs as I could hold, from NHS to orchestra, Key club to Avid to student council, I tossed them in the air faster and faster. Then I fell, on several occasions. I couldn’t keep balance and juggle, being just a 17-year-old (non-circus trained) girl. I fell into my bed, I fell into exhaustion, I fell into stress and impossible demands I created for myself.
I tried to balance on a volleyball, I trembled on the inflated leather, balancing on daily practices, outside-of-school commitments, and the mental toll of devoting my life to a sport. On top of balancing on a volleyball, I tried playing the cello while doing so. I held up the wooden instrument and the complex pieces I had to teach myself, the shame of falling behind in class. Of course, I couldn’t stand on a ball and play an instrument at once, so I fell. Fell into perpetual stress and insecurities in both areas of skill. But one of the hardest acts is trying to balance yourself in a constantly changing world. I fall constantly. My mood falls my grades fall, my time slips, and my motivations stumble. But just like the science class stool, I fall but I can get up, and in the present, it hurts, and it makes you want to cry, but with each fall you get up wiser, stronger, and conquer the balancing act of life. So, I’ve decided, I’m going to remember each bump and bruise, and walk into 2023 the sturdiest I have ever been before.