When I was little, I wanted to be a writer.

I spent almost every minute of my free time with either a book or a pen in my hands. My conversations with my best friends and teachers revolved around what story I was either devouring or cooking up on my own. When high school hit, nothing changed. I would even sneak my book out during my engineering classes- not because I did not care about engineering, but because I simply could not restrain myself from finding out what happened next. I absolutely lived for stories and creativity.

And then I went to college.

It all ended. I was so consumed with either going to classes, working, procrastinating on the Internet, or going to one club meeting after another, that my personal identity got whittled away. It wasn’t until sophomore year that I finally looked at my life and asked the question that had been slowly growing beneath my consciousness. What happened to me? By becoming so consumed with doing something all the time, I forgot that I am someone.

Now, as I’ve begun to question everything from my major to my campus activities to the way I spend my free time, I’ve finally acknowledged that I don’t know who I am anymore. And that’s okay. The first step, though, was to remember what I left behind. That, once upon a time, I couldn’t live without words. Thanks to my first English class of my college career, I’ve suddenly become an avid journal-keeper and my daydreaming has once again been ignited. This may have nothing to do with what I study or what activities I choose, but when the work is complete, I can return to this personal aspect of my identity.

Most of us make this same mistake. We get so caught up in the world and its expectations that we lose track of our identities, hobbies, or even dreams. Regardless of our majors or campus activities, who are we? At the end of the day, what do we pursue just for the love of it? We’re more than resume-builders.

It’s time to stop leaving ourselves behind.