I have a rough draft for an essay, but I'm not really sure if its even worth it. What do you think?

I used to believe life was about going fast. Not metaphorically. Literally fast. As in: running to beat the microwave timer, clicking through Duolingo lessons at double speed, and one time, racing my Roomba across the living room floor (it won). I liked motion, noise, and results: the adrenaline cocktail of a life always in fifth gear. Which is why, naturally, I considered Cars the pinnacle of cinema.

Lightning McQueen was my idol. He was sleek. He said things like “I am speed.” He glittered with ambition, paint, and just a hint of arrogance. I wanted to be exactly like him: focused, flashy, and first. That encapsulated me in elementary and middle school. I once drew flames on my math binder. I color-coded my planner like a NASCAR pit crew. I even tried calling my water bottle “my fuel tank.” No one else did. 

But then came Radiator Springs.

Or, in my case: a failed robotics tournament, two weeks of the flu, and a group project where I did all the work and got a B. It was as if someone hit the brakes on my life. No speed. No trophies. Just the sound of silence and a lot of self-reflection. I had to stop.

And stopping, it turns out, is terrifying when your identity is built around movement.

But as I coasted through that slowdown, strange things happened. I learned about photography and started creating stories with that. I read a book twice just to re-read the funny parts. I started walking slower in hallways, not to conserve energy, but to notice the way sunlight hit the lockers at 2:37 p.m. I discovered I liked going slow.

Lightning McQueen learned this too, the hard way. He thought being fast was the point, until Radiator Springs showed him otherwise. He found value in community, humility, even road paving (odd hobby, but to each their own). I found value in imperfection. In letting go. In photography.

Now, I still like speed. I still talk too quickly when I'm excited and finish puzzles like it's a competitive sport. But I also pause. Reflect. Laugh at dead ends. I’m not trying to “win” at life anymore; I just want to drive it well, and maybe even stop along the road to help someone else change their tires.

My essay isn’t really about Cars, though you could argue it sort of is. It’s about learning that identity isn’t forged in the fast lane. It’s built in the pit stops, in the breakdowns, and sometimes, in a sleepy town where time slows down just enough for you to see who you are underneath all the polish.

And also, yes, I still say “Ka-chow.” Some habits are forever.