A significant experience from my freshman year was my trip to India.
In the weeks leading up to my departure, waiting was driving me crazy. It had been seven excruciatingly long years since my last visit, and everything had changed.
I couldn’t wait to leave. To miss a month of my freshman year.
The year felt like it would never end, but this trip would be a breath of fresh air. An escape from everything high school had demanded from me.
As the year went on, it became more and more draining. I spent less time growing as a person and more time consumed by how others perceived me. The impact of these insecurities went beyond the classroom as they were intense in all aspects of my life.
At the time, I probably couldn’t tell you five things that I truly loved. Five things that moved my soul. Five things that made me the person I was.
I was too busy trying to fit into a place where everyone felt out of place.
Traveling to India opened my eyes to this. Each street was filled with bustling crowds, deafening car honks, and effortless conversation in Hindi. People wore traditional clothing that connected them to their beautiful culture.Though on the surface level it seemed like a completely different world, it really wasn’t. The bustling streets were similar to the busy hallways after the lunch bell, the car honks were similar to the shrill sound of the bell releasing us from class, and traditional clothing was no different from our green polo uniforms.
Both places had established their identities with people trying their hardest to fit in.
Darker skinned Indian girls scrubbing their bodies to lighten their skin and finally fit the fair skin beauty standard. My pale teenage classmates tanning for hours to finally achieve the perfect tan lines.
No matter where I was, everyone was trying to fit in. And I had been trying to fit in.
It is simply human nature..
The truth is that I never will fit in. I don’t think anyone will ever truly fit in.
We are all different. We are uniquely ourselves.
We are made up of the people we love, our experiences, the ugly we’ve seen, the cries we’ve heard, the laughs we’ve shared, the hands we’ve held, the words we’ve spoken, the words left unspoken, the anger we’ve suppressed, the mistakes we’ve regretted, and so, so much more.
Each person has their own story. And no one will ever know you as well as you know yourself.
Coming back, I realized that I needed to cultivate my own identity. I am not solely a high school student, nor am I solely a wanderer of the streets of India.
I am both, deep in my soul. Along with so much more.
Author’s Note:
A few months ago in my honors English class we were asked to write about a memorable experience during high school, though the moment my teacher said this, no memorable experience came to mind. The only thing that I could think about was how unmemorable the past two years had been. So, that’s what I wrote about. I wrote about how nothing stood out because no matter where I was, everything was the same, and I was different. That’s what this piece is about.
Saira Gupta | 16 | Reno, NV | @sairagupta26 on Instagram
