b'Letting the door slam behind me, I walk down the hall in overlapping states of anxiety, excitement, and anticipation. Joining the mob ahead of me, I become one more body jostled by the thousands. I crane my head to the left, thinking I see one of my friends, only to collide headfirst into the backpack ahead of me. Bumped back, Im knocked into a stranger who screams in my face, Watch it, less you wanna start something! Eyes wide, I cringe back to make myself small and quickly move to my right, back into the mass of bodies. A quick right down the hall, then another two lefts, I wind up in AP English just as the tardy bell shrills above. Exhaling deeply, I sink into my seat as the teacher starts to pass back essays.Like many, Ive endured my four years of high school. In each class and activity, I have distinct groups of friends where the only commonality is me. While nonetheless real, I know in my gut that these friendships are curated, maybe even conditional. Im sharing myself carefully with them to maintain the persona I know they want. Like a twisted puppet master, I pull my own strings to explore and act and make it through.I bet my teachers dont see it. Im too confident and successful for them to question the level of my anxiety and insecurity. They, too, are only shown select pieces of who I think I am. For them, Im Rory Gilmore: the hard worker, the mature one, the student with promise. To the friend on my left, Im the impulsive girl who snuck into a public pool to skinny-dip at midnight. To the boy in art class, Im a shy, creative, hipster with great taste in alternative indie music. Which is me, Chameleon, Imposter, or Liar?The journal stowed carefully in my bedroom tells a story I dont share and that others dont see. Harboring every secret act, suppressed desire, and rambling thought, these pages scream of my loss, of being lost. I write the words, but I dont know how to accept them how to discern meaning and purpose and selfhood. Down to my core, I have this unshakable certainty that if I shared how lost I feel, I would be cast off. Sharing too much risks ridicule, disgust, rejection. too much. Better to push through until high school ends and I can start fresh in college: somewhere else as someone else. Maybe this time, Ill discover that person is actually me.46TRENDS 2025'