A ubiquitous caliber of perfection underlies the (fragmented) fluidity of our social fabric at Stanford. I couldn’t put my finger on it until fairly recently, but my running hypothesis is that we’ve yet to escape our college applications. The resume, the personal statement and the grammatically perfected and cleanly defined narrative arc of challenge and triumph continue to plague our personas. It shows up in the conviction of our voice, the articulation of our thoughts and the way we see ourselves and the world around us. This is not normal.

We’ve yet to escape the perfectly packaged self that, in many ways, granted us admission to this university. In the process of carefully curating ourselves to be sold off to the black box that often defines the college admissions process, I am terrified to think of all that we have lost in the process: passion for the sake of passion and struggle for the sake of struggle. When our greatest challenges and triumphs get woven into a story of what constitutes the 4%, we condition outselves to believe that insofar as we perfectly curate our experiences, we will be accepted, we will belong. We often attribute social media as the greatest perpetrator in creating this incessant desire to iron out the creases and present a refined version of ourselves, but we often fail to consider the very conditions that brought us here to begin with.

If we are all actors in this theater of self-deception, I’m most concerned about how this kind of artifice translates to the quality of our relationships. In effect, I believe they lead to what we colloquially define as “missed connections.” In failing to detail the messy, contradictory truth that twists within us, we forego the opportunity to connect more deeply, more deservingly. When we “TLDR” our struggles by abridging its true tenor, we “successfully” maintain an image that only serves to sever the trust which lends real meaning to relationships — this is an act of betrayal. It is no wonder that former U.S. Surgeon General Vivek Murthy declared we are currently experiencing a loneliness epidemic. How can we not be lonely when we hardly know how to connect truthfully?  

But perhaps the most important relationship that perfectionism obstructs is our relationship to ourselves. In keeping our thoughts and feelings at bay, we become distantiated. We no longer know how to sit with ourselves and welcome the present moment. When emotions arise, we sedate them with our addiction of choice: doom-scrolling, partying and [insert yours]. How can we possibly discover our place in this world if we have become severed from ourselves?

A friend recently told me, “you’re the most put-together person I know.” A fleeting moment of relief was quickly supplanted with a deeper, inexplicable remorse. What she didn’t know was that I am the least “put-together” person I know. I doubt myself everyday. I stare in the mirror with the same, illogical scrutiny that proves nothing. I wake up every morning, grateful to be here but still doubtful of my “deservingness.” Every day is another test in overcoming the burden of proof that I have created for myself and is reinforced by the systems around us.

I understand this with pristine clarity when my beautifully brilliant f riends express the same perfectionistic qualities. When they voice self-doubt after experiencing rejections from clubs, sororities, or disappointing grades, I better understand the harms of perfection: a destructive, untenable fallacy. I see myself in the way they seem to question themselves because I’ve been there, too. In many ways, I am still there, too.

I encourage you to defy the self-imposed image of your personal statement. Through a radical embrace of your faults and failures, I hope you’ll find ways to defy your “perfect” self. Today and tomorrow is yours to choose in this becoming. After all, you are, as Robin Williams says, “bound by nothing.” Congratulations and welcome to the human condition.