The Price of Looking Like a Fool

I remember my college days clearly. I was shy about doing anything. I was so scared of what people thought of me that I never realised my own potential.

I loved dancing, singing, writing, and playing games. But I rarely volunteered for anything except games. With games, I knew I was strong and could pick up any game quickly. Everything else felt risky.

I was always comparing myself to others. I felt insecure about my potential and never felt ready to learn, because learning meant I might look like a fool.

College felt like a place where only people with existing talent could flourish. People who simply wanted to learn had no room, unless they were completely okay with looking foolish. I wasn't. I thought highly of myself and never wanted to look like a fool. So I stuck to what I was already good at, like sports, and my other interests took a back seat.

It wasn't always like this. I still remember singing on stage in class 12, and everyone praising my voice. I had been dancing since class 7. Back then, I didn't carry this heavy image of myself, so I volunteered for everything freely.

That changed when I entered college. I saw people around me with so many special talents, and I started feeling insecure. I never really opened up to anyone.

Writing was the hardest of all. I loved it, but I was scared of people who used fancy words. I imagined them reading my simple English and making fun of me. So I judged everything I wrote through their eyes and waited for an approval that only existed in my head. My writing never came out.

Only after college did I realise how much potential I had wasted. If I had recognised it earlier and used my free time to sharpen my skills, I would be in a far better position today.

I'm proud that I've finally started writing. But I also carry guilt for not starting sooner.

Here's what I understand now. My fear of looking like a fool and my high opinion of myself were the same thing. I was protecting an image, and that image cost me the very things that made me happy: the stage, the music, the dancing, the writing.

The girl who danced in class 7 didn't worry about being good. She just danced. That's the version of me I'm finding my way back to.The guilt is real, and it may stay for a while. But I'd rather feel guilty about starting late than regret never starting at all.

Learning anything means looking a little foolish at the beginning. Now I'm willing to pay that price.