Egotistical (?) by Sidrah

Egotistical (?) by Sidrah - August 2026 Scholarship Essay

From my middle school years up until my sophomore year in high school, I developed an enormous ego. I never said anything out loud regarding any of my egotistical thoughts, because I was simultaneously too self-aware to behave that way. But nonetheless my superiority complex remained. It was not one built with industrial level mental walls, only the pencil I wrote with in English hauling my massive ego around. They came crashing down once a lick of mathematics was mentioned, of course. My conceit was born when I mistakenly gave myself my first compliment after years of having problems with my self esteem. I completed a rough draft of an essay and began proofreading it when I caught myself smiling at my own work. I felt pride in that moment, reading the words quietly as they melted into my head. That pride was a parasite that would later expand.
I was a decent writer, and my teacher recognized that as well. It was very rare for me to get under an A- on most of my pieces. When I hear my classmates struggling with the same prompt that I thrived in, and even enjoyed doing, my head gains another thick layer of vanity. When people began to talk about the modern literacy crisis, in my head, I thought I was the pristine example of what quality writing a young scholar writer should be. I had convinced myself I was a prodigy because I had the skill of being able to assume the definition of a word I didn't recognize based on the context it was written in. The problem with having an ego that you can recognize is an ego, is that you will gain an ever larger amount of pride for being able to identify it. The other issue with that is that I am a soft spoken person, with a colossal ego. So there was no addressing any bad behavior because there was none to address that could actually be accounted for. I referred to my issue as Serene-Vanity syndrome because unbeknownst to me, the official name for it was "internal grandiosity."
I felt guilt for feeling superior as well, the superiority complex in my head was nothing like me at all. Although it may not seem that way, I am generally a very humble person to the point I get told often that I underestimate myself. It was also notable how fragile I was during that time as well. I would feel threatened when I notice that my classmates' writing skills are not as bad as how I saw it in my head. Even though I was so sure I was smarter than my entire English class, I failed to account for obvious writing improvement due to the teacher doing what she is paid to do. That night I tried writing horror, and to my standards, failed miserably. After that night my ego still lingered in the air, but it was never as intruding as it was in my middle school brain. My freshman year of high school went as expected, I was one of the better writers in my class period and the teacher liked me for that on top of me being quieter. At this point, I have only seen essay grades as "A's" for the past couple grade levels.
When I wrote my first draft my sophomore year, my teacher told us that in order to get the final copy paper, we will have to show him our finished draft. This was the moment I was waiting for all year, to be praised for my alleged legendary writing. One by one students went up, he gave them genuine advice and added notes to the work too, guidelines with color coded pen circling and redirecting lines and thesis'. Once I was finished, I walked to the front of the desk and handed him my paper. In hindsight, I did it quite quickly and I probably looked a little frantic. He begins reading it, and I notice that he is taking a little longer to read through my paper. Now will be a good time to note that while my writing was never awful, my handwriting is the equivalent to an educated octopus's writing style. Naturally, I assumed he was so in awe of my writing that he was speechless. I was slightly out of my head while waiting to be showered with praise, when I heard the click of a pen and my teacher's voice. My teacher was critiquing my work, the same work I proofread myself dozens of times. He concludes his monologue with “Just adjust those few things and you’re good to go!” I didn’t receive a single compliment for my writing abilities, I was so convinced I was a talented author by that point, I was crushed. Afterwards I listened to his advice and revised my draft. I ended up getting a B- on that essay, and completely snapped out of my Serene-Vanity Syndrome. Maybe I was a little bothered by his words, so I took a step back from personal writing since then. The whole dilemma I was experiencing, funny enough, trained me to become a more honest and authentic writer, and person overall. I respond to constructive criticism far better than I used to, and I have a deeper appreciation for my writing now that it’s more transparent.