Whenever someone suggests we play a game, my first instinct is to groan internally. I like games, but I place unbearable pressure on myself to win everything from checkers to flag football to video games. Every time I compete, I risk the humiliation of losing.

So I can’t imagine the pain of athletes who lose their events in the Olympic Games after training so intensely for four years. They sacrifice time and energy to perfect their game, only to miss their shot at glory. The media walks away with an image of them wringing their hands (if NBC decides to show them at all). The message is clear: winning matters a lot. And the winners make winning seem easy. I like to imagine myself on top of the Olympic podium, but fail to include in my fantasy the endless practice hours and gruesome injuries that accompany every elite athlete.

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Fear motivated me to write this article. Last month, I decided to weigh in on a controversial issue, then chickened out before I could publish the post. I had too many doubts. Was I mature enough to handle this topic? Did I get the nuances right? Did I have counterarguments for every possible counterargument to my arguments?

People who weigh in on controversial topics can legitimately be in danger. I’ve seen how a slight misstep in wording or intention could attract a horde of angry, even violent commenters. I’ve underestimated the bravery of all the writers who spoke brutal truths online.

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I tried to drum up enthusiasm for a variety of topics for this post – “elephants,” “elevators,” “earth” – in an attempt to avoid the one topic I knew I must write about. But I succumbed to “eczema,” as I always do. It’s a personal and embarrassing topic for me, but one that I need to talk about.

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The simple question, “what’s your favorite animal?” puts me in a dilemma. I should be answering “rabbit,” my spirit animal, but I adore dogs more than anything else.

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My mom likes to joke sometimes that books are bad for my health. For example, they ruin my eyesight because I can’t help reading them even in poor lighting. Or I stunted my growth because these bookish thoughts took up too much of my mental energy. Worst of all, I lose sleep at night when I become too engrossed in a book.

My mom also encourages me to check books out from the library before buying them. But as soon as I arrived at Berkeley and encountered cheap, second-hand bookstores, her advice went out the window. I bought every book that looked remotely interesting to me.

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