You don’t need to be perfect to be valuable, start anyway by Riley

You don’t need to be perfect to be valuable, start anyway by Riley - July 2025 Scholarship Essay

If I could go back and tell my younger self just one thing, it wouldn’t be about how to avoid pain or succeed faster. It would be this quiet truth, one that would have saved me from so many sleepless nights and silent battles:

You don’t need to be perfect to matter. You don’t need to be perfect to begin. You need to start.

Because I used to believe that the world only applauded the polished, the poised, the ones who never cracked under pressure. I thought if I didn’t show up flawless, then I shouldn’t show up at all. So I waited. I waited for confidence to arrive like a package on my doorstep. I waited to feel "ready." I waited for the perfect plan, the perfect time, the perfect version of me.

But here's what I know now: perfection is a prison, and waiting is its warden.

I thought I was protecting myself by holding back. In reality, I was silencing my potential.

I was the girl with big dreams and a heart that beat faster every time she imagined her future, but who stayed small, quiet, hidden behind self-doubt. I told myself I’d start the project “when I was more qualified.” I’d speak up “when I sounded smarter.” I’d chase my dreams “when I had it all figured out.” But the perfect moment never came.

Instead, I learned the hard way that growth doesn’t wait for perfection, growth begins the moment you do.

I remember the first time I did something scared. My hands were trembling, my voice cracked, and every voice in my head told me to stop. But I did it anyway. And though it wasn’t perfect… it was powerful. Because I didn’t feel powerless anymore. I felt alive.

That’s when I realized: every time we delay our dreams until we feel worthy, we forget that the journey is what makes us worthy.

The messy attempts, the awkward first tries, the failed starts, they aren’t proof of weakness. They’re proof that we’re brave enough to show up. And showing up, especially when you’re scared, is the most courageous thing you can do.

To my younger self, I would say: You’re not behind. You’re not broken. You’re becoming.

I’d tell her:

Start the thing that sets your soul on fire, even if your hands shake.
Apply for the opportunity, even if you don’t check every box.
Say yes to the dream, even if it feels too big for you right now.
Because the truth is, you don’t grow into the dream once you feel ready. You grow into it because you dared to begin when you didn’t.

The world doesn’t need another perfect person. It needs someone real. Someone with the courage to show the process. Someone who turns their fear into fuel. Someone who reminds others that it’s okay to be a work-in-progress.

Someone like you.

I’d tell my younger self that your voice matters, even when it trembles. That your ideas deserve to take up space, even if they aren’t fully polished. That your heart has value, even when it’s healing. You don’t need to perform for worthiness. You already are worthy.

Because the most unforgettable people I’ve ever known weren’t the ones who did it all perfectly. They were the ones who kept going. Who failed and rose again. Who stood in front of the world: messy, scared, authentic—and said: “This is me. I’m here. And I’m not giving up.”

So if I could say one thing to the girl who used to hide her light behind “not enoughs,” it would be this:

Start. Even when it’s not perfect. Especially when it’s not perfect.

Start, because there’s someone out there who needs your story.
Start, because your voice might unlock someone else’s courage.
Start, because waiting won’t make you braver—but starting will.
Start, because you are not here to shrink. You are here to shine.

And to the people reading this—to the ones who hold the key to a new opportunity, a new chapter—I want to leave you with this:

I am not perfect. But I am real. I am relentless. I am ready.

I’m ready to show up fully.
I’m ready to learn deeply.
I’m ready to use every ounce of what I’ve walked through to help others rise.
Not because I have it all together—but because I know what it means to begin again, and again, and again.

This scholarship wouldn’t just help me chase a dream. It would help me prove to every young person who feels “not enough” that they don’t have to wait. They can start right now.

Because if I’ve learned anything—anything at all—it’s that perfection is a myth.

But purpose? That’s real. That’s powerful. And I’m walking in it now.

So no, I don’t need to be perfect.

I need to begin. And I already have.