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The Pressure to Be Productive as a Teen “Sometimes the most productive thing you can do is relax.” — Mark Black. By Bria Y. Somewhere along the way, becoming a teenager transformed into a full-time job. Open any social media app during the summer, and it won't take long before you encounter a video explaining how to make the most of your break, from internships and SAT prep to college applications, volunteering, and so much more. However, while these experiences can be valuab

I noticed I didn't fit the standards these girls held themselves to. I was tired of noticing their criticisms, so I just stopped looking at my reflection. Whether in the mirror or in photos, I avoided it like the plague.

Between the ages of 16 and 17, I lost six of my closest friends within six months. They were my only real social circle at the time. And when you are 17, it is difficult not to believe that the opinion with the most votes must be the truth. What I didn’t understand then was how little of my identity actually came from me. I didn’t have a strong foundation of self yet. I knew myself largely through the way other people saw me, and because these six people were the people I tru

Last summer, I went back to Belarus after more than four years of spending my time in the United States, along with other places. It was an “anywhere but home” situation, even though, technically, Belarus was my second home. It was one of the best summers of my life. I reunited with my cousins, a family-friend brother and sister duo, and a girl I had just met. We spent our days running through hay rolls, visiting neighboring villages, and going to points of interest such as t

Is needing a change of scenery all you need? In my previous article from last year, I mentioned how I was not able to get my "infinite" amount of work done for my English class. Now, as an almost-senior in high school in June, most of my work in English class is reading "The Crucible," as heartbreaking as it may be, writing my college essay, and setting up the college Common Application. Reminders of how far I've gotten and how far humanity has as well. Some things never chan

I remember writing a poem not so long ago for my English class. One year ago, I stood on the stage of the Rochester Riverside Convention Center as a winner. It was my first year in DECA, and as a student finally ready to take on a club, I was eager to join and compete. Overall, I spent four months really creating that project. An independent business plan outlining a company called Organica, “Nourish yourself, improve your health!” I still laugh at the memory of myself sitt

"Well, I've been afraid of changin' 'Cause I've built my life around you But time makes you bolder Even children get older And I'm getting older too" Stevie Nicks, Fleetwood Mac It was May 23rd, 2020, and it was the day before the “Eat A Bowl of Rigatoni Pasta” day, and one of the most memorable events in my life was eating Rigatoni with my father… ​ “Davay tuda zaydom!” “Let's go there!” ​ Saturday, New York City, La Pecora Bianca. It has been five years since my papa and

A hyper-fixation is an intense, concentrated focus on a specific topic. Over time, I have developed a few hyper-fixations and special interests myself. Hyper-fixation is a state in which the brain's reward and attention systems greatly reinforce the same stimuli. Increased dopamine activity in reward pathways makes the activity feel more motivating and significant, while the prefrontal cortex limits attention and discourages switching between tasks. Used for planning, d

As the sun sets, another day begins.

The sound of rejection is never loud. The sound that fills the void between your breath and your heartbeat is a constant, quiet shutting rather than the loud smash of a door. It's a long hush, a gap that falls like dust on a shelf where your dreams should have been. Rejection can sometimes have nothing to do with you. Others may not perceive your value because they are too sluggish or hesitant to make room for something new or unique. They disregard the other options withou

I will never forget the first day of my sophomore year. I had expected it to be a simple continuation of freshman year, another chapter in the same two novels on the shelf, side by side, each page adding to the ongoing story of life. Every year, a new edition is added. But this time, the page didn’t merely flip. It was rewritten, white-out erasing last year’s memories, a red pen crossing out everything that came before. This change brought me back to a pivotal moment: sitting