Why do I write for the Odyssey? Why do I write, blog-style, and share these ideas on social media? This is the question framing this piece. And my answer right now is that I am searching, and putting my ideas out there, like this, is my way of reaching out to those who are also searching.

You know those days where you’re going, and going, and going, and you finally stop, realizing that you haven’t had a moment to yourself, and that you’ve been rolling through the motions, the class work, the small talk, the “hey-how-are-yahs,” and you sit down, (you sometimes write run-on sentences like this), you take a deep breath, and you sit face to face, or screen to face, with a friend, and that friend tells you: “You’re not yourself.”

I don’t know if this happens to many people because I’m highly dubious of the quality and quantity of authentic friendships on Duke’s campus.

It is so easy to get caught up in the desensitizing wave of schoolwork, of thoughts, of ideas, of a shitty political discourse, of a stifling campus climate, and an ostracizing social life. We are like the dunes of a shore, constantly hit by the soft pull of the ocean waves, unaware of how much we’re losing with each soft ebb and flow of the tide.

I felt this way about two weeks ago.

I recognized that I had been giving out parts of myself like a candy dispenser, without any replenishment. I realized that friends I had expected to be there for me were not capable of feeding me in the way I needed to be fed. I realized that I was looking for this love, this fulfillment, in all of the wrong places.

A few weeks ago, some one asked me the million-dollar question: “Do you have a best friend?”

I couldn’t answer him.

I have very, very close friends. But I’ve never had a best friend. The culture I’ve lived in always seemed adversarial to the idea of fully digging into one person. What if they let you down? What if they can’t be there for you? What if you put out, and they can’t give back in return?

That wall is a wall of fear. I’ve broken that down, and I am still working on eradicating it from my own life. But I’ve realized that in seeking to give of myself to other people, fully, without barriers, some people are just not capable, not available, or not emotionally mature enough to give back. This says nothing about the person; it is just a qualification for where they are or where their priorities sit. My needs change as I change. As I grow, I cannot rely on the nutrients of the past, but my body requires different sustenance.

I realized that my identity couldn’t branch from others. I could not depend on all of the people who I thought would be there for me. I could not rely on people who were hundreds of miles away from me. I could not depend on people close with me who allow their own devices to get in the way of an authentic relationship. I could not rely on my schoolwork or academic ambition or my future goals or my own personal means of coping.

At my lowest point, I realized I needed a paradigm shift: in mentality, in reality, and in spirituality.

This has been a work in progress, but right now I know what and to whom I am rooted. I’m growing in self-awareness, in faith, and as a result, I am seeing who is willing and present and able to walk with me through this.

I’ve been distracted. But I know what I need, I know who my true vine is, and I know how I can find Him.

I share this not so you can pat me on the back and let me know you’re here for me. Really, thank you, but that’s the last thing I desire. But I fear so many people haven't... I am writing this because of the epidemic we all face as college students living in a culture that values end goals and not the present moments. We need these present moments to realize the end goals we're striving for, otherwise, who will we be, what will we have learned, when we finally get to those distant horizons?

We all live with masks and we all look like fools.

We are we trying to kid?

This is my slow and steady effort at ending a long-standing masquerade, with the hopes that we can finally start taking ownership of who we are, independent of the fear and pressures that the world places on our plates as college students who are supposed to be perfect, supposed to change the world, supposed to have all of the answers.

Let’s be comfortable living in the discomfort. Let’s be comfortable living a question, instead of an answer. I am writing this, and writing in general, to dispel a narrative I have been living for a while, with the hope of creating (or resurrecting) a narrative in which some of us might be able to feel best tells the story of who we are.