The epitome of inadequacy is felt, in my opinion, when you begin to write the document that describes who you are and what you are capable of in order to convince people that you are worthy of earning money from them.

Have I done enough?

The first thing you feel is a pang of impending doom when you realise you need to write about your achievements but last time you checked, having caught a rare Pokémon on Pokémon Go is not quite the kind of achievement your employers are looking for. You end up rummaging through old certificates, trying to find times when you weren't so unproductive, and sigh in relief when you find that one time you volunteered for a non-profit organisation. (Even if you did it just to spend time with your S.O. but they don't need to know that.)

To include or not to include

When you've finally compiled all the things you've done that you think are mentionable, it's time to cross out almost half of them. The more you look at your CV, the more your achievements seem trivial. You think of asking for help from experienced people, but then never get around to doing it since you know you'll be embarrassed if they say none of it is good enough. After a few unsuccessful internet searches, you decide to wing it and include all the crossed out things too because, hey, quantity over quality. 

Peer pressure

It's now time for the judgemental overachieving peer to walk in and smirk at your CV, knowing that they can easily give you a run for your money. You suddenly feel the pressure to be as good as or even better than the peer but fail miserably since it is impossible how much they have accomplished in the same few years as you. You feel incompetent, and it starts to reflect on your CV. However, you soon stumble upon encouraging peers in the same bowl as you that you forget about the arrogant peer. 

Why you always lyin'?

Soon, the encouraging peers update their CVs to be unimaginably impressive while you're still stuck with your average one, leaving you confused as to how they've done years worth of work in a week. You confront them and all they do is laugh it off, making you question your own morals and whether to do the same as them. 

Identity crisis

You do decide to tweak the truth and become one of the alpha peers but you can't help but worry about the consequences you might have to face if you're found out. Even if you aren't, you'll have to live with the lies you've told all your life. How in the world were you going to break it down to your co-workers that you were only the secretary of your high school community service club and not the president? Your conscience gets the best of you and you decide to revert back to your old CV, and a sense of accomplishment finally sets in, knowing that all you've written are things you've actually done and it doesn't matter what other people write in their CVs anyway. 

Mayabee Arannya is a confused soul still searching for a purpose. Give her advice on life at facebook.com/mayabee.arannya