If I Could Change One Thing

My English teacher gave us an interesting question today: "If you could change one thing about your life, what would it be?" She told us to think carefully and write an essay about it. I sat at my desk and thought for a long time. If I could change one thing, what would I choose? If I were richer, I would travel the world. If I were taller, I would play basketball. If I had more time, I would learn to play the piano. If I spoke another language fluently, I would move to another country. There are so many possibilities. But the teacher said we should choose just one thing and explain why. I thought about what really matters to me, what would truly make my life better. And then I knew my answer.

If I could change one thing, I would be braver. I am not talking about physical bravery, like fighting or jumping from high places. I mean the courage to try new things, to speak up when I disagree, and to follow my dreams even when they seem impossible. I have always been a shy person. If someone asks me a question in class, I feel nervous even when I know the answer. If there is a group activity, I prefer to stay quiet and let others lead. If I see something unfair happening, I want to say something but I often stay silent. I wish I were more confident. I wish I could walk into a room full of strangers and start a conversation without feeling anxious. If I were braver, I believe my life would be very different.

Let me give you some examples. Last year, there was a talent show at my school. I love singing. I sing at home all the time. My mother says I have a beautiful voice. But when the sign-up sheet went around, I did not put my name on it. If I had been braver, I would have signed up. If I had performed, maybe I would have discovered that I enjoy being on stage. Maybe I would have made new friends who also love music. But I was too scared of what people might think. What if they laughed? What if I forgot the words? These fears stopped me from trying. Now I regret it. If I had known how much I would regret it, I would have signed up immediately.

Here is another example. My dream is to become a writer. I have notebooks full of stories that I have written. Some of them are quite good, I think. My English teacher read one and said, "This is excellent. You should submit it to the school magazine." But I never did. If I submitted my story and people did not like it, I would feel terrible. If they criticised my writing, I would be devastated. So I keep my stories hidden in my drawer. If I were braver, I would share my writing with the world. If I let people read my stories, maybe they would enjoy them. Maybe someone would tell me that my story made them feel something. That would mean everything to me. But fear holds me back.

I also think about friendships. I moved to this city two years ago and I still do not have many close friends. If I were braver, I would invite people to do things. I would say, "Do you want to grab some coffee after school?" or "Would you like to come to my house this weekend?" But I never ask because I am afraid they will say no. If they said no, I would feel rejected. So instead, I wait for other people to invite me. Sometimes they do, and I am happy. But often they do not, and I feel lonely. I know this is my own fault. If I took the first step, things would probably be different. Most people are friendly when you approach them. I just need to believe that.

My mother notices that I am quiet and she worries about me. She says, "If you practised being brave in small ways, it would become easier over time." She is right. She suggests starting with tiny steps. She says, "Tomorrow, try saying hello to someone new at school. Just hello. That is all." I think about it. If I said hello to someone, the worst that could happen is they ignore me. But more likely, they would say hello back. And maybe we would start talking. And maybe we would become friends. It is such a small thing, but it feels enormous to me. I decide to try. Tomorrow I will say hello to the girl who sits next to me in science class. We have never spoken, but she seems nice. She always smiles when she comes in.

I think about what my life would look like if I were braver. If I had more confidence, I would join clubs and activities. I would try out for the school play. I would volunteer to read my essays aloud in class. I would tell my friends when something bothers me instead of keeping it inside. I would apply for the summer writing programme that I saw advertised last week. If I got in, it would be amazing. If I did not get in, at least I would have tried. I am beginning to understand that the fear of failure is worse than failure itself. If you try and fail, you learn something. If you never try, you learn nothing. You just stay stuck in the same place, wondering what might have been.

I start writing my essay. I write about all of these things: the talent show, my stories, my friendships, my mother's advice. I write honestly about my fears and my hopes. If I could change one thing, I would choose courage. Not because my life is bad, but because I believe it could be so much better if I stopped letting fear make my decisions. I write about how I plan to start being braver, one small step at a time. I write about saying hello tomorrow. I write about submitting a story to the magazine before the end of term. I write about signing up for the talent show next year. These are my promises to myself. If I keep them, I believe everything will change.

The next day, I hand in my essay. I also do something brave. When I sit down in science class, I turn to the girl next to me and say, "Hi. I am Sophie. I do not think we have ever properly introduced ourselves." She looks surprised but then smiles warmly and says, "Hi Sophie! I am Lily. I have been wanting to talk to you for ages but I thought you preferred to be alone." I cannot believe it. She wanted to talk to me too! We chat for a few minutes before the lesson starts. She tells me she also likes writing. She asks if I want to have lunch together. I say yes. My heart is beating fast but I feel happy. One small act of bravery and already my day is better. My mother was right. It does get easier when you start small.

A week later, my teacher returns our essays. She has written a comment on mine: "This is beautiful, honest, and brave writing. I am proud of you for sharing this. A+ ." I feel a warm glow inside. She also says something that surprises me. She says, "Sophie, I would like to read a paragraph from your essay to the class, if you give me permission." My old self would have said no immediately. But I think about my promise to be braver. I take a deep breath and say, "Yes. You can read it." She reads the paragraph about the talent show. When she finishes, the class is quiet for a moment. Then a boy at the back says, "That was really good." A girl says, "I feel exactly the same way." I realise I am not alone in my fears. If I had not been brave enough to write honestly, I would never have known that other people feel the same. Bravery connects us.