Where Have All The Dreamers Gone?

Years ago, in the movies I watched as a kid, the world, especially teenagers, always seemed to be reaching for something that was hard, that they put their heart and soul into, and going against the grain even when the people they were close to said otherwise. Maybe my perception of that was just because that was the story that people wanted to hear; someone unlike others, that stands out and make a difference. But growing up, I thought I would be surrounded by that. My friends in childhood had big dreams of becoming writers or gymnasts. It didn’t cross my mind until we were all in the process of really deciding how to go about the next stage of our future, during college application season. Suddenly, all I can hear is “I’ll probably just…”. “I’ll probably just apply for an unwanted major and then switch when I get there.” “I’ll probably just go to the school that gives me the most money.” “I’ll probably just see what my parents say.” If it wasn’t that, it was painstaking stressful work, where it began to take people out of themselves. I saw people become obsessed with their dream school and their hobby, and put everything else after it. In addition to that, I watched people start to take on extra hobbies just to appeal to colleges. I watched a student use AI to write her essay for her application to be on the board of National English Honor Society, and get on. It made me so sure to only do things that I really cared about, that benefitted me, made me productive, but kept me connected.

Once decisions came out, I could smell the ego on some of the people who got into those great schools. My relationships changed massively and I felt like I was seeing so many people for who they really were; even more, who they were about to become. Many of my friends going to great schools I believe maintain their kindness, passion, and motivation. Some of my friends settled for a lot less than what I think they could have done for reasons outside of their control. I reflected hard on the school I was going to commit to. I visited it on an admitted students day, met many people, and went on multiple tours with guides and family friends. But I couldn’t go.

My decision to take a gap year stemmed from a handful of aspects. The main one was that my best option felt like settling. When I visited, I didn’t envision myself attending and having a great college experience. I envisioned myself sitting between classes, daydreaming about where else I could be if I had just played the game like everyone else. I began to feel jealous of my peers. If I had done all my work with AI to fit in more clubs, more honors that I didn’t care about, just focused on my sport instead just to get into college, maybe I would have better options. But I knew that I wouldn’t give up. I don’t sell out.

There was no way I could have been like everyone else. In the end, I think it has saved me. I am currently learning traditional Mandarin Chinese at a program at National Taiwan University. I’m living in a foreign city on my own, and within these first two months I have already felt the most sudden and motivating maturing I have ever done in my life take place. When I tell people this is what I’m doing, even the young adults in my program, the responses can be summed up to two responses; One, “Oh cool,” (this person holds a negative connotation of the phrase “gap year”) and two, “That’s awesome, I could never do that. You’re so brave.”

But that was strange. Maybe I held a negative connotation of my gap year too. Why were people praising me when I made the easy decision? Somehow, moving to a foreign country across the world felt like the safety net. I didn’t realize how out of the box it was do to something so bold so early. Even more, I didn’t realize how timid everyone else was. I saw an extreme lack of bravery from my peers. To them, college was the only way forward. College was the paved road and the other paths were overgrown enough that they didn’t even look twice at them. I still admire my friends so much for the work we put in and the lives they’re living. But I now have no doubt in my mind that my gap year was the right decision.

The other main aspect of me taking my gap year was that feeling of competitiveness with my peers. I still felt like I had to prove myself to everyone around me; my friends, my family, my classmates and everyone in my graduating class at school, even feeling imaginary pressure to keep the multi-generational family “tradition” to attend UCLA and Stanford. I couldn’t exist without seeing myself from the outside, standing next to others. But now that everyone else is so far away, it suddenly disappeared. I committed to a decision I made, that no one else understood, and it freed me. I’m so much more aware of who I am, what I want, what I’m doing and why I’m doing it. I’ve gone back to writing and reading and drawing and fencing. I feel like myself. Not again, but more myself than I ever have been. But I can still feel myself growing. My hopes are bigger. I am crying over literature and waking up early and making friends with the alleyway neighbors. I have become so secure in myself. I feel no guilt going out, no guilt staying home. No guilt saying no, no regret saying yes. No embarrassment in trying, no shame in failing. I have never felt this way in my life. I have a feeling it is only achievable when alone, determined, and looking forward to the future. I am so inspired by myself, my peers, and the children holding hands in the street.

I have returned to being a dreamer. I dream of researching the Earth’s ecology with NASA. I dream of writing poetry and reading deeply intentional essays and literature. I dream of birdsong in the city and bloodless roads in the country. I dream of mainstream educated media and widespread educated people. I dream of empty animal shelters and updated human biology textbooks. I dream of a day where everyone has a book in hand to help their brain. I dream of accessible education and literature and healthcare. I dream big and often and with full belief that it is possible. We are still here.