It was the very end of my first Model UN conference, and people have to vote for the outstanding delegates by rising up our country’s card. When our votes became our power to decide who will be the final winner of that big prize, the election suddenly turned into a giant popularity contest between competitors. The voting became insane when there were a bunch of elementary school students. The person who made the audience laugh or look charming wins more votes, while demonstrated efforts seemed to be totally ignored.

I tried not to vote and hoped nobody noticed me. However, my turn to vote came at a time when I least expect it! So there I was sitting surrounded by many other delegates, facing an unfair situation and a dramatic result- It was a tie, and I was the last one to decide - Who shall I vote for -the one from my school or the one who sold a lighter atmosphere?

   "Can I give up my vote?" I broke the silence when I was sitting in of those anxious eyes and faces and grabbing my country’s card.

"You have to vote. It is the rule. You also said ‘Present to vote’ at the beginning of the session" The director replied.

Ignoring other's gazes and whispers, I sat in silence to present my defense to the unfair voting system. So that was something that sounds cool, but sitting there was a nerve-wracking thing I’ve ever experienced. I felt embarrassed, yet wrathful. I didn’t want to vote against my will, but I didn’t mean to make the competition awkward. I didn’t know what I was going to do at that moment. I could continue to seat still amid the growing commotion, or I could rise my card and vote for a random country.

The next morning, I woke up with the hard memory that I had finally submitted to that system. I had betrayed my belief of fairness – something always so important to me – under the weight of my peer’s glares, whispers, and groans. I had even apologized for my “rebellion” to regain the director’s favor. Though the actual event and the result seem pretty minor, the self-betrayal was divesting. For a long period of time, the more I recalled the scenes, the more I felt regret. I made my determination: next time, I will follow my heart and do the things I think they are right.

My painful memory was brought back by my friend’s jokes about their school’s student union election. She talked about how the person to whom she voted for was humorous. Vividly, I still remember that there I was , standing before the director, insisting my own beliefs, valiantly prepared to ruin the other participants' great effort based on my own judgment. Even now, I still can't say with the certainty what the right choice was then, or for the similar dilemma I'll face in the future. Four years after that competition, I still think highly about my value, but I have also learned to weight my principles against what's the best for everyone. I have learned to question whether it's is worth to be stubborn about my own beliefs when they may hurt other people.