Three things are promised to all American citizens through the Declaration of Independence: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. When Thomas Jefferson drafted the famous document, he was aware that happiness itself can never actually be guaranteed by any form of government. Indeed, a good deal of happiness comes from an individual’s successful interpersonal relationships. A few years ago, I realized how much my happiness depended on my friendships and the people who were important to me. The true importance of having a friend struck me in eleventh grade when I joined the mentoring program at my high school. Twice a week, I would spend my fourth period shuttling between two different elementary schools, mentoring students at each. What I learned as a mentor, in conjunction with my desire to please others, stretched me so thin that many of my personal relationships were put on the line. I put those closest to me aside, causing them to push me away. To keep myself from losing some of my best friends, I was forced to reconsider the way with which I treated those around me. Now in college, I have accepted that I inherently feel the need to please others, but only in such a way that I do not hinder my personal relationships. Through these events, I have found that what satisfies me most is making others happy.
            When I joined PALS (Peer Assistance and Leadership Skills: the mentoring program) at the beginning of my junior year, I didn’t know what to expect. I had thought that I would be given a child with an endless supply of personal problems, and that it would be my responsibility to “save” them. I was wrong: My two PALees were perhaps somewhat reticent, but otherwise just like any others. As I spent the first few weeks working at the two schools, my two kids warmed to me. Eventually I realized that they looked forward to each and every day that we were scheduled to hang out. They waited for that day, that hour, that minute, that second that I would walk through the door.  I would not tease them for being “uncool” or clumsy, and they knew it: they could be themselves with me. I was not a wall to lean on, or a hero: I was simply their friend.
            While working with my PALees, I observed a difference in the reactions of children and adults to similar stimuli. Whereas adults and adolescents have the tendency to hide their emotions, children are more willing to express them. This observation brought me to the conclusion that as children grow, their emotional responses to certain events do not change; rather, their ability to hide them increases. Soon after I came to the conclusion that as children grow, their emotional responses to certain events do not change; rather their ability to hide them increases. Therefore I realized that what makes a five-year-old happy or sad will do the same for a twenty-year-old: the emotions are exactly the same. Indeed, we feel that certain stimuli – such as praise – only work for children, yet many fail to realize that praise will elicit a similar response in an adult. However, when children are insulted or teased, they will display an extreme reaction. When one does such things to an adult, the response is smaller; generally a snide comment before he or she walks off. Nonetheless, the alienation and rejection is the same, and the adult is just as unhappy as the child.
            This epiphany evoked change in my everyday behavior. I saw people in a different light, and strove to smile at those I did not know, greet those I had hardly met. When confronted, I always gave the benefit of the doubt. I tried as hard as I could to brighten everyone’s day by giving them a bit of attention and letting them know that I was willing to be their friend if the need ever arose. However, having this attitude was simply incompatible with the academic and extracurricular workload I had at the time. My only interaction with my close friends occurred during the lunch period at school, and try as I might, I found it almost impossible to make time during the weekends for my friends given my hectic schedule of crew, studying, and guitar practice. I had to allot my weekends for completing homework; occasionally I tried to squeeze in some time with my best friends, but even that became difficult. My new viewpoint slowly tore me apart as I and my closest friends drifted further and further apart.
            It took me almost a year to discover the mistake I had made. By then I had lost half of the people I could call my true friends, and I knew that if I did not do something to rectify the situation, I would have lost them all. Indeed, by trying to accommodate every new person that walked into my life, I forgot about those who were already there. At this point I knew that I had to limit myself: it was simply impossible to become good friends with everyone I met. I returned to my oldest friends and thankfully they took me back.
            When I started class here at UT, I did not know where I stood. I did not know what to expect from myself, whether I should turn a new leaf and start again or to retry what I had failed to do in high school. For a while, I thought about how caught up I had been trying to please everyone else and how that was not a possible option for me coming into college. While I was giving myself away to so many people, it felt like nobody was giving himself to me. At that point, I felt that if I had been sustaining myself for so long, then everyone else could do it as well. I gave myself a clean slate, hoping to be a loner this time, depending on myself without having to deal with emotional attachments with anyone. This did not last very long, it only took a few days before I began to grow close to new people and make new friends. How could this have happened? I already had my old friends so I never really felt lonely. Most of the people that came with me from my high school had not been branching out as much, why did I feel the urge to do so? I had absolutely no need to go out and make new friends, yet I could not escape the part of me that made it so easy to do so.
I was greatly surprised to be categorized as an ENFJ-type individual by the Myers-Briggs test. The website told me that people like me “see themselves as helpers and enablers,” further stating that “they are apt to neglect themselves and their own needs for the needs of others.” Indeed, these statements reflected how I had felt less than a year before, having been subject to filling myself with the burdens of others. This confirmed the belief that helping others would inextricably be a part of my life and that no matter how much I tried to avoid it, I would always feel the need bring out the happiness in those around me. Whereas I used to believe that my passion was reflected in how I did in my academic courses, only recently have I discovered this to be my true passion. Previously I thought that everyone was how I was, but now I know that my outlook on life is somewhat unique, as ENFJ’s are apparently “found in no more than 2 or 3 percent of the population.”
It felt like this explained so much about who I was, although it seemed as if I should have known this all along. Yet how could a website have known me better than I knew myself? The thought of it should have been preposterous, but I felt no such thing. Instead of being taken aback, my categorization was welcoming me, ready to embrace me with open arms. I was relieved that I was able to find an outside view of myself. Instead of trying to make myself like those around me, I was finally able to accept that my way of interacting with others was not unusual. I was given a guideline that I could follow to please my need to help others while keeping myself within the limits I had set for myself. I was no longer afraid of inadvertently hurting the feelings of others – or my own. I no longer had to inhibit myself from being me.
It now makes sense to me why my thirst for making the people around me happy has not been quenched – it just happens to be part of who I am. I hate feeling powerless when those around me suffer or feel sadness, regardless of whether or not I know that person. It pains me to have to inhibit my desire to be extroverted and passionate, knowing fully well that it would lead to another episode of personal loss. Ideally, I would want to be able to affect the lives of others anonymously – in a way in which I can keep from creating any emotional attachments. This way I am allowed to be spontaneous in how I operate without building up any expectations of things I should do, as opposed to feeling the weight of having to fulfill some kind of quota. I would not be able to work on a person-by-person basis, as this method was clearly unsuccessful in the past. Preferably, I feel that I would gain a bigger sense of fulfillment if I could do something for a chunk of people rather than just a few.
As a student in college, there is currently little I can do. My work ethic and semi-hectic schedule coupled with my limited social life do not allow me from taking part in community activities that would enable me to fulfill my passion. I know now that I want to work towards a career in which I can do just that. However, there are such a wide variety of possibilities seeing as how my vision is vague and encompasses a broad range of things. I am afraid that I will stumble into a path that I will regret having taken, seeing as how there are so many ways to be deceived into thinking one will be doing something good for humanity. Furthermore, I feel that due to the recent nature of my discovery, my mind could shift and my passion could change at any given moment. However I have faith in the words I have written here, as my experiences in the PALS program and the loss of my friends are what have led me to making this decision. Without my two important revelations, I would probably be a Physics major with no clue as to what I really want to do. Hopefully, by the end of this year, I will at least have figured out the path down which I wish to walk, rather then being half blind in a fog of my own emotions.

Word count: 1869
Word count without quotations: 1836