Today is a gloomy day on campus. I trudge through the annoying half-rain, half-sludge that plagues the month of February, eager to reach an indoor haven from this sea of black umbrellas. But right before I cross the threshold of my dorm, something catches my eye. Or rather, someone.
A boy leaps barefoot, with rolled-up pants and headphones embedded in his ears, dancing across the lawn to a beat that only he can hear. His grin infectious, I find it impossible not to smile back. My eyes stay glued to him until finally entering my dorm. So, this is my small way of saying thank you, to the boy who danced, for reminding me that doing what makes you happy makes others happy in return.
And I’ll admit it. In fifth grade, I drank Propel because it was the cool thing to do, despite thinking it tasted like artificial sh*t. In eighth grade, I wore a bra despite not needing one because of one snarky comment from the grade’s trendsetter, “You don’t even wear a bra?” (She said this while wearing a sapphire velour Juicy jumpsuit, so I obviously took it to heart.)
Eight years later and fortunately, I’ve abandoned imitation grape flavoring and have reasonable justification for bra usage. But our choices in drinks and clothing are only representative of the larger picture -- the things we do to satisfy the opinions of others produce only fleeting, hollow happiness.
The most prosperous of college students both dedicate their every action to others (given acceptance to any university is practically synonymous with the title of insert charity here club founder) and maintain behavior worthy of, “Yeah he/she is actually really chill.” We’re intelligent, but filter our opinions in fear of what others will think of them. We crave individual appraisal, yet analyze whether that double text is too aggressive to be cool.
We, as humans, are biologically predisposed to perform in a manner that promotes acceptance from others, but this drive for approval is the simultaneous demise of our own well-being. We can mold ourselves into the person we think everyone wants us to be: be it the chill girl who despises beer yet orders it anyway, or the guy who pretends he’d rather be playing FIFA than baking a new recipe. But this leaves us where we started -- drinking a drink we don’t like, surrounded by people who would probably appreciate us for who we are if we’d just let them.
As a generation, we are proud of individuality, yet over-analytical of every post, share or text. We -- literally and figuratively -- filter our every thought and action to the most “likable” shade. So, again, this one is to the boy who danced. For reminding me that the happiest filter is always the original.
