I have a confession to make. For the past 4 years, I have been living a lie. An elaborate, carefully constructed, extremely stress-inducing lie. I told everyone I got into Harvard. I posted my acceptance on my school’s commitment page, faked a student ID, and even moved to Boston to make it all seem real. I attended lectures, stressed over midterms, and convinced my friends I was a full-fledged Harvard freshman. But the truth is, I was never actually admitted. 

It started in high school, where my GPA was a solid 2.7, but in a school full of annoyingly bratty overachievers, that just wouldn’t cut it. So I did what any logical person would do. I lied. I told everyone I had a 4.0, and “got in” to every. single. Ivy. League. school. When it came to choosing my school, I didn’t really want to feel like Devi Vishwakumar and her Princeton debacle, so I decided on Harvard, which I told EVERYONE was my dream school. 

So I faked it. It started when I faked my acceptance letter and posted it proudly, absolutely basking in the praise and admiration I got from my peers. Honestly, it made my skin glow like it’s never glowed before. I joined the Harvard 2028 group chat and acted like I belonged. I even moved to Boston in August, but obviously, I couldn’t get a dorm. When people started questioning where I was living, my lie became more elaborate. I said I had a sick aunt in Boston who I was living with.

For months, I lived like a Harvard student. I WAS a Harvard student. I felt like Mike Ross, except I wasn’t a reformed weed junkie, and I didn’t have a mega-hot boss like Harvey Specter. I sat in on lectures, participated in discussions, participated in discussions, and freaked out over my exams like everyone else. I was in deep. Way too deep. The worst part was I actually started believing it. The pressure to maintain that lie was getting to me. I was breaking under the pressure. 

Reality hit me when I realized I couldn’t just use my friends’ meal swipes for my whole first year at Harvard. How was I going to get through this without any food? I needed my Ivy League nutrition more than I needed the admiration I got when I said I went to a “small liberal arts college in Boston.” 

I am not, and I was never, a Harvard Student.

I don’t know what’s supposed to happen next. Do I move back to my parent’s house in Fremont California? The happiest city? The city that crushed my dreams? Maybe I’ll finally figure my life out. Maybe I’ll finally really truly honestly do this whole college application thing. Who knows? I’ll go where the wind takes me. Probably into another lie.