I cannot keep comparing myself to successful Asian-American actresses who are making moves and getting it done. I cannot rack my brain about how “that could have been me,” when, if it could have been, it would have been. Although we were up for the same roles; got some roles, denied other roles, they persisted. They had what I lacked: passion.
I love performing. I love the arts. But I do not have enough passion and desire to devote my entire life to pursuing it.
I realized at 20 years old that if it wasn’t going to come easy to me, I didn’t want it. Performing was never something that was hard for me. It never really dawned on me that I’d really have to try. I was blessed with one great audition and one great show. After that was the struggle.
I was 19 years old, in New York, with a show on my resume contrasting the age and “type” I was hoping to portray. Myself. My true age. My resume read “30 years old and specific”. It was difficult, it was trying, it was draining and I just wasn’t really into it. Any of it.
But I still can’t help but miss it. Or have physical symptoms of envy when I see that a certain former competitor now has a verified Twitter account and has 83,000 followers on Instagram and is on one of the hottest shows on Netflix. I can’t help but wish that was me. But it isn’t me. She is not me. I am not her. I lack what she has. Whether it is talent, passion, desire, strength. Whatever it is, I have to move on.