Take the Red Pill

44 after months of physical therapy and a grand total of eight months on crutches, I remember what happened after I was carried to the car. I remember the fathomless anxiety I felt leaving my room and the despairing feeling as I watched my friends play the game I loved. Then, finally, I remember when those feelings dispersed and I could walk with my own two legs, except that ability to walk did not last.

Once again, as soon as I thought I was rid of those horrid crutches, they returned. As I slipped while taking a step down, the thunder of my knee collapsing struck again. I have replayed this moment in my mind every day since it happened. I replay the crack, the agonizing pain, the embarrassment, and finally the flood of feelings I thought I had surpassed. As I was wheeled to my car once again, further away from all the things that brought me joy, the crutches seemed to be there waiting for me. The crutches came everywhere with me from then on; up the Senior Path and down to the fields. Not only did they carry my phone, but they carried me. As I re-learned how to bend my knee and how to walk, no one understood the crippling depression that was brought to me by these crutches.

Then the whistle was blown and the game began, fourteen months after the initial return of the crutches. I had carried these crutches with me for so long that I could not remember how to run, nor how to play this game I had once loved. The familiar anxiety of re-learning something I had once enjoyed stays at the front of my mind. My crutches no longer carry me, but I think that I might always carry them.

“Fall Leaves.” Clipart Library, http:// clipart-library.com/free/ fall-leaves-transparent-

By Kaan Uslular ’23

Do I need to choose the hard path in order to grow? What would happen if I just took the blue pill?

When I came to the United States for the first time, I made strong eye contact with the border officer. She looked at me and asked, “What’s the purpose of the visit?” I was so excited because I had prepared for this simple question during the ten-hour flight. I was ready to say complex sentences with flawless grammar and an American accent. The anticipated moment came, she asked the question, and my mind suddenly stopped.

Thinking–hesitation–and then simply: “Education!” All the sentences I practiced during the flight flew from my mind. I wanted to say more to show that I’m better than just “education.” I wanted to say, “ My purpose of visiting is to become a neurosurgeon.” She would look at me in a confused and amazed way. At that moment, I realized that I did not know anything about what I was about to go through. My family was thousands of miles away in Istanbul, I was overthinking my language barrier, and most importantly, I was not quite sure what the future would bring. I promised myself: If you want to learn how deep the rabbit hole goes, don't be afraid to pursue your dream and take the red pill.

I needed to accomplish the first hard part: pursuing the truth about what I believe. For example, I always hesitated when