When I came home from college for the first break—Fall break, it must have been, in October 2015—a family friend told me that I had changed.
That was ridiculous, I thought. I'm exactly the same.
How could I have changed at college? I didn't really like college all that much yet. It was just ok. I had met some nice people and my classes were fine. I knew my way around and I liked the campus enough, but I hadn't been entranced by anything yet. I wasn't different. I was exactly 100 percent the same as I was when I had left, less than two months prior.
When I was young, my dad told me that no one feels like an adult. And I'm starting to realize that's true, though it's different coming from a 19 year old than a 60 year old.
But the more I thought about it, and as I continue to progress in college, the more I understand.
When do you realize you've changed?
I suppose I've come to the conclusion that you don't. Or at least, you do, but it's a long ways down the road.
Before going to college, I had no idea what I wanted to major in, no idea what student organizations I wanted to be a part of, no idea where I would live or who my friends would be, no idea how I would occupy my free time, or what I would be doing during the summers. I had no idea.
Now, I have at least a partial answer to all of these uncertainties. I'm definitely majoring in sociology, and hopefully political science. I have friends. Good friends. And I write for my school's newspaper.
I've changed—at least for now—in that I have more ideas. More opportunities, at least in my mind. I have a greater understanding, or at least, an evolving one.
I have the same taste in music and I wear the same clothes, though I'd like to think I dress at least a little better than I did in high school. My favorite books are still my favorite books, and I'm still not great at math. I still talk to the same people I've always talked to, plus a few additions.
There will never be a day when I realize I've changed— at least I'm pretty sure of that. Change is gradual, and change is slow, but that doesn't make it bad.
I will be different at my college graduation than I was at my high school graduation, but I will still be the same me. I don't anticipate my soul will have changed that much. I may think different thoughts and know different people, that's all. The bulk of me will still be there, uninterrupted.
I think we know which parts of ourselves we want to leave behind — the parts we know we're better without. And I think this is how change happens, even if we don't notice it. Change happens when we unconsciously let part ourselves go because we don't need it anymore.
Change happens when we recognize not what is in the future, but what is safely locked in the past. Change is inevitable.
Every once and a while— particularly when I go home for school vacations — I wonder if I have changed. I look around my room at high school projects, books I've read, and clothes I've worn. And I see myself. I see myself as a kid, dancing around and playing with toys. I see myself crying about an assignment or figuring out what to wear. I'm still there, I know I am. I can feel it.
But it's in these moments that I realize how far I've come. It's not necessarily that I've changed directly, but that my life has changed, and I have had no choice but to evolve with it.
I anticipate it will be that way forever, even if I never feel like an adult.