High Risk, High Reward

As the late hours of January 1st slowly turned into morning, Jane looked back on the previous hours she had spent partying. She remembered the vow she had made to herself when the clock struck midnight, alone in the corner while her friends rejoiced around her. 

“Work hard no matter the cost.”

The advice had been in the back of her mind throughout the previous year, however she decided that this brand new start was the time to implement it. Long gone were the nights where she’d prioritize sleep over her work. Forgotten were the days where she’d stay in bed instead of being productive. She had always prioritized her health over all else, but those moments were now memories. 

The last year had been full of failure; failure as a student, as a daughter, as a friend. She had put her comfort over her duties, and paid the price in missed opportunities and failing grades. 

No matter the cost: Jane would work hard. She knew the toll it would take on her would be destructive. She’d seen it affect her father; long hours, getting sick often because of the lack of sleep, constantly being in a bad mood. But it would all be worth it when she succeeded. The reward was higher than the risk, and she’d risk anything to make everyone proud. 

No doubt her friends would be mad. She’d already started to pull away. Long text conversations turned into one word replies, calls that would last hours were now only calls of necessity, and laughs they would share were now hard to come by. But they would understand, it would all be worth it. 

She would’ve never made this resolution last year. But last year she wasn’t as big of a disappointment. She wouldn’t stay in her rooms and miss family meals. She wouldn’t intentionally miss club meetings or due dates in favor of laying down and thinking of nothing. 

How did she spiral so far? How will she bring herself back up? There were days where she would do nothing but read and write and study. Studying! She used to love studying. The accomplishing feeling of taking notes and learning was enough to make her enjoy school. Enjoy being productive. She sacrificed that feeling for sitting on her floor, trying to remember how she got in that position and why she wrecked her room.

No. She wouldn’t be in that place again. The feeling of being unproductive carved a hole in her chest, but she was powerless to stop it. She felt trapped in her own head, watching herself spiral into a shell of herself, someone who struggled to get out of bed and considered eating an inconvenience. She wouldn’t allow herself to be that helpless. There was no one to rely on but herself, a fact that made itself abundantly clear when no one checked up on her. But she couldn’t be mad at her friends. Her decline wasn’t their fault. 

She thought back to the party that laid waste on the small house. Everyone was excited to see the past year gone, and they had spent the better part of the evening sharing stories. She hadn’t laughed like that in a while. Memories of drinking too much, walking at night, and playing games were recounted, and nostalgia was shared within the group. It felt bittersweet to be reminiscing when all she thought about was leaving her friends behind. They would understand. Right? They knew how important satisfaction and glory was to her. If she wouldn’t be able to hang out every week, they’d understand. The fear of being left behind ruined the conversations for her, but she still reassured herself that they wouldn’t forget about her. But even if they did, who would blame them? Jane would become flaky, someone who’d be exhausting to talk to. Jane would need to prioritize. In a contest between friends or success, the latter would always win. Company was inconsequential, not a priority. One day she’d come back, come back to the laughs and the fond stories. She’d be back someday, but not anytime soon. 

They wouldn’t recognize her. Her family wouldn’t recognize her. She’s not this determined, not this diligent. She was known for being average: average grades, average pastimes. But that would all change. She will be better this year. She has to be better this year. Jane couldn’t suffer it any longer. The disappointed glances from her teachers or the long talks she had to have with her parents when they realize how bad she’s doing. It didn’t matter that it took her days to get out of bed or that she would spend weeks not brushing her teeth because it was just too hard. They cared about success, about glory. They cared when she did well, but they didn’t care about her wellbeing. 

It is hard to fault them though. Her undoing had been carefully executed, where no one would notice. It saved her embarrassment. It was for the best anyways, they would turn it against her. She had nothing to complain about. Her childhood had been perfect: perfect house, perfect school, perfect family. She had been less than perfect. She was average, never motivated, and was constantly looked down upon. This was to be no more. She would be the best version of herself this new year. Success before everything was the rule she had to follow. Her health would only be an inconvenience to think about, something that would slow her down. She would be the topic of conversation, the person people would bring up when talking about achievements. She would be impressive, someone who deserved respect. This would be hard to achieve, but the prize was just too tantalizing. 

This year would be the hardest she’d ever faced, but to her it would all be worth it. Being a disappointment weighed on her chest, and she was tired of suffocating by her own action. The risk was inconsequential, and the reward would be well deserved.