My Personal Addiction

The following is a paper that I wrote for AP Lit, only I've added in somethings and terminology that would have been appropriate for high school. Enjoy.

"My Personal Addicton"

The speech team dominates your life. No, dominate is not strong enough. Maybe...it encompasses every aspect of your social life while slowly turning your brain into a machine of speech-writing and voice perfecting. Yet, for some reason, I stayed with it for four years. It's like an addiction for me, I think. I'm competitive naturally (something my therapist has "diagnosed" me with), so after I won second place at my first speech meet, it put a fire in my belly nothing less than first could put out.

I prepared vigorously, practicing twice, three times a week. And it paid off. My collection of blue, red, white, and yellow ribbons kept growing at an exponential rate. I was lucky enough to have a great group of seniors to mentor and support me. The twins, Shawna and Amanda, were always friendly and supportive, two qualities a timid freshman desperately needs. And Bryce, well, Bryce was a god in radio. His voice was the model of perfection that I strove toward. At state freshman year, I exceeded expectations by breaking into semi-finals, a fairly high task for a freshman. That being as far as I got, I made a pact with myself that next year I would make finals.

After a lackadaisical summer of not thinking about speech, fall came and so did the dreaded school year. Being elected an officer to the speech team, I had delved even farther into the belly of the beast. But, I didn't forget the pact I made with myself that past spring. At almost every meet, I never placed lower than third, with most of my wall covered with red and blue. But there was one boy who was the only one who could beat me. It didn't help that he was gorgeous and I was always gazing doe-eyed at him, as do most high school sophomore girls with a shy dispostion, when I should have been writing my speeches.

He went to South Side, our biggest speech rival, but let's just say I wasn't the only girl who's eyes spun in their heads only to turn in to hearts when he swaggered in to the rom. His name was Charlie and he was notorious for two things: annihilating all competition in radio, and being ridiculously good-looking while doing it. However, Charlie wasn't what really made that year memorable for me. At sectionals, the competition that determines who advances to the state meet, I didn't make finals and was the first alternate for competition. In short, that meant that if anyone didn't compete at state from my sectional, then I would take their place. Well, a miracle happened and Charlie (who won sectionals and advanced to state) backed out of the competition, which gave me his spot.

So two weeks later, I was on the bus and on my way to IUPUI for the state competition. I fought my way to the final round with my desire to prove myself. Waiting on stage as they called all the other names ahead of me was the most nerve wracking experience ever. With each placement announced that counted up closer to 1st, my heart stopped a second longer. When the proctor finally came to third place, he announced, "From Fort Wayne Northrop High School, Samantha Goldsberry." In one way, I felt this huge weight lift off of my heart because at least I knew how I stood. But I would be a liar if I didn't say that the pings of disappointment weren't present.

Once again, I made a pact with myself. This time, I wanted to do better. Unfortunately, my enlarged ego from the previous years was getting to me and I probably didn't work as hard as I could or should have. But, I still made it to state, and then to the final seven. I had more riding on the results as I walked up on the stage. My heart was beating faster than I could count seconds and it felt as if it were going to just fly out of my chest at any moment. I was confident I would at least do as well as 3rd so when they announced my name for 4th place, it caused an electric shock to run through my body as I felt numb from disbelief. It took all my strength to not start crying on stage. The one thing I didn't want to do was place worse than the previous year. And that is just what I did. It didn't help that Beau, a competitor and future boyfriend *shudder*, kept trying to ask what was wrong and bugged the crap out of me while I cried my eyes out. To make matters worse, Beau had just placed second, the rotten cheating bastard.

But I digress. After losing miserably, I thought that I was about to die from the disappointment. But something different happened. Instead, I became invigorated to beat all competition without mercy. I won the sectional tournament (a first for me) and I practiced harder and longer each day. I went to state, sure of the fact that I had annihilated the competition for the first three rounds. You can then imagine my surprise/anger/disappointment/jealousy and all those other girly emotions when I saw that I didn't break into the semi-finals. I didn't cry then. The only time I cried was when I called Ro, my recent ex-boyfriend, and my parents, neither of which had any words of wisdom or comfort to bestow upon me. That day was the longest day of my life. Those who do not break in to semis are doomed to a seven hour day of eating, listening to music, trying to read while there are at least 200 people in the same gym as you at any one time, and watching Step Up on my laptop because "majority rules."

I first thought that the past four years had been a complete waste since I never got to be the state champion. After that sad day, the fire in my belly for speech simmered down to a few hot coals, and after a month of no speech related activities, the fire was doused. Letting a few months pass by has let the sting of losing fade a little, and it has helped me realize that it wasn't about the ribbons or trophies, though they were a nice perk, but that speech was about the relationships and friendships I formed with people. I just have to look at the positive things that happened in the short four years I was in speech and I realize how lucky I am to have been able to experience something that unique.