It’s late August and I arrive at freshman orientation at the small liberal arts college I’ve chosen. I successfully locate my dorm and my dorm room and toss my suitcase on a bed to claim it. The first of my four roommates shows up. Dan, from the Midwest, a violinist, very self-possessed and self-assured. It makes me wish I was more self-assured. Self-assurance had not, to this point, been my defining feature.
I walk outside leaving Dan to unpack his violin and other stuff. Summer’s over and it’s just short of kicking into fall, the leaves whispering a bit of orange. The trees make the campus beautiful. I think about how to present myself to the 399 other kids I’m about to meet. No reason to be so different from how I was in high school, right?
Or not right?
This is, I realize, my chance to create myself anew, to put on any mask I can conjure up, to rewrite my life story. In high school that was impossible. Those kids knew me for most of my life. They saw me grow up. They caught me at the worst moments of adolescence. They heard my voice break. Masks and made-up histories were a complete waste of time. It was like getting up every day, getting dressed, only to arrive at school completely naked.
Maybe I should just adjust the dials. Turn up the funny, turn down the pessimistic. Or create something out of whole cloth: “Yeah, I was a dancer with the Joffrey, they said I had a brilliant future, but I busted my ACL and, you know, I’m looking for ways to channel my creative brilliance so I think I’ll try mime.” No, I’d be found out instantly—I’m short and stocky so nobody would mistake me for a dancer. And I loathe mime. A girl walks by and I look up and smile at her. She gives nothing back even though she looks right at me. Okay, further confirmation that this version of me isn’t working. I return to my room and meet two more roommates.
We talk for a while. I don’t love these guys, but after a few minutes we share a laugh and some of the toxic anxiety that strangled me loosens its grip. Dan keeps to himself, holding his violin while the rest of us continue to chat and settle in. I realize that recreating myself would be a waste my time and everyone else’s.
What a relief.