I slipped on my trendiest and shortest outfit for the first day of my junior year at my new high school with one intention, to meet Aaron. I stalked him on Instagram and found that he was the one for me. 
I walked into the smelly, disgusting cafe for lunch trying to go unnoticed with my tray filled with what they call “food”. In other words, there were three different types of mashed potatoes on my plate. My legs felt numb, my eyes with fear and my stomach? Now a fourth type of mash potatoes. As I put one foot to the floor after the other determined to reach the nearest empty table, I knew my first day at this new private school was going to be a living hell when a girl came up to me. She had a distinguishing look of Regina George.  
        And I’ve watched Mean Girls a thousand times. Either I was sitting in her seat, or she’ll say, 
“You’re pretty for an Asian.” 
        Wait what, no one ever says that. 
“Um, thanks?” 
I took the compliment from Rebecca, the prettiest princess of them all, and headed toward my Algebra 2 class with only a few stares. Right then my teacher has the audacity to ask me what “x” was equal to. In the middle of my staring contest with the whiteboard, he turned around, swooping to save me from the evil dragon’s fire breath. 
He was already perfect. Well, for me at least. He had decent hair and didn’t wear gym shorts for a living. And me being the average Asian girl that I am, I was falling for him. In the blink of an eye, I thought to myself, I might just have a chance with him. 
Something wasn’t right. In the first two months of my arrival, I have actually gained some friends, an actual boyfriend, and I was actually looking forward to homecoming. I planned an award-winning duo outfit for Aaron and I to look like we ruled the kingdom. He was my slayer to my dragons, the glue to my paper. The peanut butter to my-the annoying high pitched squealing of teenage girls caught my attention.
“NO. FREAKIN. WAY!”
I screamed, as I stormed over to the flashmob of people taking photos, and his “Will you be my date to homecoming?” poster. I-I didn’t understand. I started to feel like my mashed potato stomach had become a gooey lump of sadness that was eating me alive. I built up the courage to rage out of my quivering lips. My body lunged towards him in hope for comfort. What I got was just betrayal.
“Just why?”
He somehow manages to form words to explain why, he would embarrass me like this. 
“Um… well… Rebbeca likes me, and… I like her too… I’m sorry Chaewon.”
“IS IT BECAUSE I’M NOT PRETTY ENOUGH? NOT SKINNY ENOUGH? NOT BLONDE ENOUGH FOR YOU?”
“It’s not you, it’s--”
I ran before I could hear the next line of that cliche. I got home and I replayed that scene until I couldn’t. If he can’t think for a second before throwing our relationship away, I’m not spending any longer replaying our dinner dates and looking back into his deep brown eyes. I cried and screamed myself to sleep, my pillow still drenched with tears by morning. 
But before I completely lost myself, it came clear to me that I never wanted to be with him. I just felt the need for him to be my boyfriend because I believed I needed him to be better than everyone else. I chose him because I thought he would like me. I never even looked into his personality before I fell in love with him, for I fell face first in love with him, literally. I believed when Rebecca said, “I was pretty for an Asian”, like what the hell is that supposed to mean? Not only is it racist, it just shows the low standards I put myself through. The fact that I took her phrase as a complement reveals my manipulated head that tries to be great and competes to be the best. But do I understand what it means to be the best? 
Nobody needs Rebecca to tell them they’re pretty, or a knight in shining armor like Aaron. I made my decisions these past two months based on me believing there are different standards and different levels of a “pretty appearance” that I need to meet when really I’m just a teen trying to fit into the reality of today’s unrealistic standards. I try to be great when all I need to be is good. Good enough for myself. 
We can all try to be perfect, but only some of us will strive to be good. Good enough for ourselves.
If we’re pretty they judge us. If we’re smart they judge us. If we’re tall they judge us. If we are of a certain race they judge us. If we live they judge us. You can’t choose whether people will judge you or not, but you can choose how you define it. How you listen to their judgments. How you compare yourself to those judgments. How you make your decisions off those judgments. But I am the slayer of my own dragon and I am the ultimate judge of myself.
And my dragon is beautiful.