Becoming notable

I've worked far harder than I should have done for years now. I pushed my secondary school to let me take a GCSE in year 9, completed the corresponding AS in year 10, then self-studied two more AS-levels and 3 A2 levels in year 11 alongside the rest of my GCSEs. Not because I was outstanding at the subject - I was far better at english, and several people in my school outstripped my abilities in everything - but because I overwhelmingly wanted to work at being outstanding at something, and this is what I picked. At the start of year 11, without telling anyone, I applied for cambridge university, and got an offer. Which I promptly failed to make. I strengthened my resolve, started studying even harder, and the next year took two additional A2s, resitting some of the subjects I screwed up previously. This time, I got in. Before the summer had ended, I'd learnt half of the first year material. I told my professors that I'd just had a good teacher beforehand, but it was me. I did that. I worked so hard to get there. Climbed a goshdarn mountain with textbooks on my back. Completed so many past papers that I lost track of what I'd done. Not because of someone else. Because of me. Because of what I wanted to be. In my interview, I was asked who told me to apply. There is this pervasive expectation that I'm here because of the support I received, not despite the opposition I faced. That despite three disabilities, a suicide attempt and c-ptsd, I somehow took the easy road. Last year, I learnt a language, started learning a second, publicly performed spoken-word poetry for the first time, joined three committees, and ran a popular society. I ended up with a 2:1, severely disappointing my director of studies, and myself. This summer, I worked harder. Managed the responsibilities of my positions while also learning the entirety of the second year material and completing the coursework. I'm going to try skipping the second year entirely, a feat which (to my knowledge) has never been attempted in my course. I'm sure this will come off as conceited, or boastful; it's not intended that way. I just want to yell at all the people who've told me "Yeah, but that's just because you're smart" that no, I'm not: I've put cereal in the fridge, can't figure out chess to save my life, and above all, I can only do an ounce of what I do because I've worked so darn hard to get here. I haven't told a soul about any of this, but I want to be proud. So, I guess, somewhere in this rambling, incoherent mess, I store my pride, and hope for humility in the future.

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