I am graduating with honors. Yet I can’t make myself walk in the ceremony. I am too ashamed. “I should have done this years ago,” I tell myself. What I really mean—the subtext of so many of my choices and beliefs—is, “I don’t deserve to have survived.” I am so obsessed with proving my worth, with earning my place in the world, that I don’t need Hitler anymore. I have become my own jailor, telling myself, “No matter what you do, you will never be good enough.”
