I moved to college in the fall of 2013. After a remarkable senior year of high school that felt like a "Greatest Hits" CD, and a summer of working as a lifeguard with my best friends, I was excited to see what my next chapter would hold. I had heard magnificent tales from those who went before me. "I've finally found myself!" they would exclaim. "I've never had so many friends who understand me." Rave reviews from peers and an ambitious desire to do something new had my hopes pumped sky high. I moved into a dorm with my best friend of six years, and had earned enough scholarships to pay for most of my tuition and fees. By all accounts, it was shaping up to be a perfect semester.

However, as my first college year started unfolding, I became increasingly surprised at how unfulfilling the whole experience was. At times, in fact, I felt more than unfulfilled; I felt alone and sad. It's so strange when the actual truth is so radically different than the one you concocted in your head. It's so odd when you have a thoroughly different experience with something than others before you. "I've never had so many friends who understand me." I played it over and over in my head. It seemed so foreign to me. I was having the hardest time making friends, let alone finding ones that understood me. My reality was that I made four friends my entire first year of college, and only two of them even came close to understanding me. I would think back to the people who said, "I've finally found myself!" and almost laugh about it. My reality was that I was on the brink of losing myself. I had no idea who I was or where I was going. I felt like the smallest fish in the biggest ocean with a broken fin and no sense of direction. Yes, I realize I just described Nemo. No, I'm not backing down. I felt like Nemo.

This isn't to say that year was all bad. On the contrary, there were a number of things I really enjoyed about it. It was my first time being away from home, and I was feeling more independent than ever. I was meeting a whole slew of new people and, even if I wasn't very good at talking to them, I found listening very fascinating. Being roommates had caused my best friend and me to grow closer than we ever had throughout high school. College can be a great experience, but there's something you have to come to understand: Some people just will not feel like they're college kids and that's okay.

I've come to realize this more and more as I become further separated from my freshman year of college. I've moved a couple times, experienced new schools and cities, and have landed back at the same university I started, but this time, it's different. I'm not saying the school itself is different. Aside from an ever-changing jumble of students and a few new buildings, the general spirit of the school has remained untouched. However, the difference this time around is me. I've come to realize that I may never fully be a "college student." Sure, I have a parking pass and I'm enrolled full-time in classes, but I just don't have the mindset. The freshman year version of me tried to squeeze himself into the box marked "College Kid." The current version of me is completely happy living outside that box. I'm not interested in going to parties and forcing small talk. I'm not willing to compromise the things I believe and the passions I have to impress someone I'll never see again. That's not to say that everyone who goes to parties has to force small talk and compromise their beliefs, but I do. I hate small talk because it feels shallow and vacant. I hate conflict, so I tend to go along with other peoples' opinions even when I whole-heartedly disagree. That's me. That may not be you, and that's okay.

This article may not be for everyone. In fact, I know it isn't. However, I know there's someone reading this who understands. You feel a little different from the people around you and may think you're the one that is wrong. I'm here to say that you're not wrong, and they're not wrong. You're just different. If you don't feel like a typical "college kid," that is completely okay. You just have a different view of things and different priorities. I know for me, my best days are ahead. A career I'm passionate about, a healthy and supportive marriage, traveling the world and discovering new things—those will be the best days of my life.