When people ask me to introduce myself, I break out in a cold sweat. As a self-proclaimed “complex individual” who probably needs to get off his high horse, how could I represent myself accurately on the spot to a stranger in just a few words?

Nonetheless, today, I present to you a brief introduction to the world of “Perpetual Flop,” otherwise known as my little life. 

My idea for this column came from a string of failures, which could encapsulate my entire Northwestern career. I’m kidding, mostly. 

I’m already rambling and making bad jokes, so let’s just bite the bullet before this installation devolves. 

I used to look at people who consistently succeeded with envy. While they achieved their goals and dreams as if routine, I always felt like the more I wanted something and put my best foot forward, the further I would fall short of my own expectations. 

In short, I felt like a perpetual flop, stuck in a continuous, never-ending cycle of failure, disappointment and general lack of success. In the past, that identity made me feel small, less inclined to experiment and closed off to new experiences. 

However, over the past year, I’ve realized the power of being a perpetual flop. I promise, I’m not coping. Well, maybe a little. But while I felt so far removed from the people I watched succeed before me, my failure was inherently relatable to others. 

We all have external facades masking internal self-doubt. Maybe I doubt myself a little more than most, but regardless, failure is a point of connection that I believe bonds so many of us. 

Throughout the past couple of years, whenever I bonded with someone over a joint flop, I always felt more understood and less alone. I want to pay that forward, especially for my first-year self, who so often felt like he was the only one struggling. 

I envision this column as a space to share my stories, with the hope that someone else might recognize themselves in my failures and feel a little less alone. This column will not dwell on a final result or outcome, and it will rarely share any advice or morals of the story — I mean, why would you listen to a flop like me?

Instead, I want to write about everything before the end: the awkward, uncertain and disappointing moments that no one feels comfortable sharing. 

And now you’re caught up to the present. The irony is not lost on me that the first installation of “Perpetual Flop” comes with a one-week deadline extension. I guess the title is fitting. 

For someone whose words have always come easily, suddenly I couldn’t think of anything to write. Actually, I don’t think that was true; I had a little too much I wanted to write. I felt like my thoughts couldn’t be adequately condensed on a page. 

I felt like distilling my thoughts down into words would morph their meaning, and once exported, they would be distorted, transforming how people viewed and perceived me.

I wanted this first installation to be perfect. 

So I started doing some research. I read dozens of other Daily columns. What tone should mine mimic? Should I aim to be super serious and eloquent? Should it feel more like a diary entry? Wouldn’t it be embarrassing if it felt like a diary entry? 

How long should it be? Is there an ideal length? (An aside: I copied and pasted three opinion columns into the Google Doc where I’m currently writing and found the average length of a Daily opinion column over the past three months is between 400-700 words. A small sample size, so I didn’t try to draw any conclusions from it.) 

Some Daily contributors are using words I didn’t even know existed. Does my writing make me sound like I’m 11 years old? Would it be fake of me to replace common words with obscure ones? The answer to that last question is a resounding yes, so I’m trying to stick to my integrity, at least for now. 

But the more I read and thought and wrote and deleted, the more I realized I was falling into an old trap. An old cycle. A perpetual flop, if you will, of comparisons and unrealistic expectations, which completely contradicts the message I’m trying to convey. 

And that’s where we’re ending today. The power of being a perpetual flop is recognizing that failure is the most likely outcome. So there’s no point in building your expectations up too tall. I guess there is a moral of the story today! 

And now that introductions are done, next time we’ll explore the time I went Fizz-infamous during Wildcat Welcome. 

David Sun is a rising Medill senior and author of “Perpetual Flop.” He can be contacted at [email protected]. If you would like to respond publicly to this op-ed, send a Letter to the Editor to [email protected]. The views expressed in this piece do not necessarily reflect the views of all staff members of The Daily Northwestern.