Shiny Star...

Samantha always thought she was special—or at least, she was made to believe so. Since childhood, she received constant praise and recognition. Her mother loved to recall Sammy’s early achievements, which gave her much-needed confidence—perhaps too much. She was the type of child any parent would want: obedient, well-mannered, not too loud and never too quiet. She was the type of person anyone would want to be around: reliable, mostly honest, and comforting. Teachers’ favorite. Samantha is was a trophy. Whether it was gold, silver, or bronze, only time would tell.

So, it was strange how the not-so-sudden changes in her life affected the relationships around her. Changes are normal, of course, but a person doesn’t quite understand how much they will affect you until you grow up. It takes time to accept circumstances—and people change. You change constantly, but your fears stay the same unless you actively try to overcome them. Insecurities multiply. Expectations double.

Middle school to junior high was okay. Junior high to high school was mediocre. High school to university was a disaster. The change started inside her own home. Once upon a time, she was ‘baby,’ then ‘Sammy,’ later ‘Sam,’ and finally ‘Samantha.’ At first, it was exciting; being called Samantha made her feel all grown up—like an independent adult. But as a young adult, you don’t realize that being an adult comes with consequences. It's freedom… short-lived, but freedom regardless. After eighteen, especially when you’re far away from home, you miss your family and childhood friends. Naturally, you don’t have much time for them, and they don’t have time for you. Your parents don’t contact you as often. You lose touch with the people who once meant the world to you.

Social media. It’s so much fun, isn’t it? A touchy subject, perhaps. It’s a question we should all ask ourselves. But for now, let’s focus on Sammy, shall we?

A post after another, like after like. Yet it all feels detached. The need to be perfect, to be memorable. Samantha loves posting online, wanting to be adored as she once was. Most days, she’s busy with the sad reality of life. She wants to be great. She studied law, a respected occupation—something her father suggested. Anything to make her parents proud, anything to make her friends jealous. To be fair, no one forced her to follow that specific major—it simply felt right. But just because it feels right doesn’t mean it is right. Childhood friendships can fall apart over time, with only the occasional like as the only form of contact. And the question lingers in the back of her mind: Am I that forgettable?

If you don’t reach out first, how can you expect others to reach out to you? Why is it expected for anyone but you to try?

If you were to ask your parents, they’d say life used to be more difficult. But how much of that is actually true? Life is different when you live in that specific moment. Anyone could say their life was harder than the person’s next door, what do you know about the person next door? What do you know about Sammy?

Samantha hides her flaws from everyone—possibly even from her own reflection. No one is more judgmental than yourself. It made no sense to her: people not admiring and looking up to her. She was the best anyone could be—her personal opinion. Samantha doesn’t see who she truly is; she only sees who she feels she has to be.

Someone will always be better than you, no matter how hard you try. A star will always shine brighter than another. Arcturus used to be the brightest star until other, brighter stars were discovered. Now, it’s Sirius. Yet the Sun remains the brightest of them all. Samantha was no Sun. She was barely Deneb—still bright, but nothing in comparison to Sirius, let alone the Sun.

You want to be remembered. I’d call that humanity. I would call Samantha humane. She is as flawed as any other person. When, and where, did her fear of being forgotten begin? Was it in sixth grade when she was praised for being so ahead of her age and so mature? Did she love the attention? Was it in sophomore year when no one noticed she hadn’t gone to school? It’s hard to say; the human brain works in mysterious ways. Or maybe it was in university when she realized she wasn’t as exceptional as everyone had told her she was. Each time she looked around, someone seemed better than her. Soul-crushing, confidence-crumbling.

Oh, what a lovely feeling that is! The feeling of inadequacy!

How much easier would life be if you weren’t constantly afraid that you’d fade into the background? Afraid of being forgotten by every single person who knows you? Afraid of not living up to expectations? Crying at least three times a month because you’ll never be enough to just exist? Simply existing is enough for some—but not for others. Samantha never belonged to the first category. She needed to do something more than just exist. It didn’t matter what. Samantha was destined for so much more.

There’s a small, tiny detail. Assuming Samantha ever wanted to overcome this despicable, spirit-sucking fear, she wouldn’t know where to start. She is not sure what kind of person she is without constant recognition. Samantha is unaware. Staying in a specific situation because that’s all you know is common hurt gets familiar over time. If given the chance to shift anything from the past, she’d decide to keep the timeline the same. Ignorance is bliss…unless it’s self-destructive, I’d call that utterly foolish. Oops! Judgmental of me, apologies!

The unwillingness to attempt something new will not lead you forward, it will hold you back. It will make you feel powerless and empty. How many of us are truly willing to confront the fear of being forgotten, or do we continue to seek external validation to fill the void? Samantha’s fear of being forgotten is not just a fear; it’s a reflection of her inability to reconcile who she is with who she feels she has to be. Her entire life has been shaped by the need to please others, to be the person everyone admires. But as time passes, that pressure becomes suffocating. She continues to search for affirmation, trapped in the cycle of striving to be remembered, even though part of her knows the answer lies elsewhere.

Samantha stays the same.