I Tried to Think Like a Genius—And Lost Myself

I used to believe there was a formula for being brilliant. I filled notebooks with ideas, forced myself to write every day, tried to turn every walk into a brainstorm. I thought if I just kept producing—kept pushing—I’d finally become someone worth admiring. But the truth is, all that effort started to hollow me out. I’d sit in class, nodding along, but my mind was somewhere else—usually replaying the list of things I hadn’t done yet. I read books I didn’t care about just to say I’d read them. I joined clubs to look well-rounded. I forced myself to talk to people who made me feel small, hoping some of their confidence would rub off. I kept telling myself I was building something—some future version of me who’d finally feel smart enough, creative enough, good enough. But all I really built was exhaustion. I don’t remember most of what I learned. I remember the headaches, the anxiety, the sense that I was always a few steps behind. I remember the moment I realized I didn’t even know what I liked anymore, just what I was supposed to be good at. I wish someone had told me that being a genius isn’t about chasing every opportunity or wringing meaning out of every second. Sometimes it’s just about being able to sit with yourself, even when you feel ordinary. #Education #AcademicBurnout #CollegeReality