Silver Linings Don’t Exist

This September, I’m starting to remember and awaken the memories of the previous school year. I had repressed them all summer long as I focused on myself and the beauty of the mountains that I reside in. My freshman experience wasn’t what I had expected it to be; my high school had presented college to be the best time of my life. Instead, higher education felt akin to high school antics including seemingly incestuous hook-ups within a small community, a perpetual merry-go-round of gossip, and competitions with grades, clothes, and possession of the coolest friends. Friendships felt forced, and I was uncomfortable with the whole situation.

However, things ultimately looked up as I became a DJ and more of an accredited artist. In May before I left Washington, I did a reflective photography piece of my freshman year. It was to demonstrate how vulnerable I felt and how uncomfortable I was with the forced dinner parties, college pressures, and competitions. In short, my first year made me feel as if I was sitting naked on tin foil – the cold aluminum representing the growing distance I felt from my peers and the nakedness of feeling alone.  I wish someone had told me that college wasn’t an escape from the purgatory of high school, but a different yet equally stifling.