Many of you might know me. Even more of you might have seen me around campus and not known my name or who I was. Some of you might have spoken with me, whether in a class setting or just in the hallway. As some I know have informed me, I’m not exactly memorable. I’m around the low end of average height, usually wearing sports apparel from teams I might enjoy watching or like the branding of. Often, I’ll engage in casual conversations with people about the topic du jour. I don’t say that out of self-pity. In fact, for a long time, being somewhat forgettable felt safer. If I could be agreeable, easy to talk to and never too much of anything, then I could pass through school without forcing anyone to form a strong opinion of me. The problem, of course, is that when you spend enough time trying not to be judged, you can also make it difficult to be known.

I feel that’s been the story of my social life so far: seemingly very standard, as standard as a heron that flies with the wind. But this wasn’t from a lack of effort. Quite the opposite: I love meeting new people. It was more the consequence of a long school life spent trying to invent myself, sometimes in spite of myself.

I attended three different elementary schools. One was a private, preppy school that my father convinced my mother to let me attend. In hindsight, probably not the greatest suggestion for a shy, introverted kid like I was at the time. My parents transferred me to Baker School for third and fourth grades and to another, farther-away private school for fifth grade, which consistently struggled with financial difficulties to the point my parents still receive emails from them to this day asking, or rather, begging for donations. Moving between schools also meant repeatedly learning how to introduce myself to people who had already formed their cliques. Every time I started somewhere new, I had to decide what parts of myself to bring forward and what parts to hide. Eventually, I got good at observing before participating, at becoming familiar with a room before trying to belong in it. That habit protected me, but it also brooded over me longer than I wanted it to.

When I finally arrived at the high school in 2022, I felt like a gannet, as in the bird: migrating through the salty ocean wind on autopilot, soaring somewhere I didn’t yet know or understand. I started getting outside more, riding the T by myself everywhere from the bustle of Boston College to the crisp air of Revere Beach and making friends both in person and online. Fleeting hobbies came and went. But nothing ever seemed to stick. I was still just here to most people. Someone people knew, but didn’t know.

As my life at the high school unfolded, I began trying to break my habit of blending in. I gained a good sense of humor and still enjoy making people laugh. I locked in on academics and was inducted into the National Honor Society a few weeks ago. And, most importantly for me, I found a hobby that stuck: writing. I’ve already finished a few works – short stories mostly, a few essays and a novel in draft – and have been recognized by two separate international competitions for quality submissions.

But this piece isn’t about my accomplishments, nor do I want it to be. Trying to break my habit of blending in took a lot of pain, discomfort and rethinking of the ways I had taught myself to move through school unnoticed. In many ways, I think I misunderstood the goal at first. I thought becoming more authentic meant becoming more visible, or more impressive, or somehow easier for other people to remember. But over time, I realized it was less about standing out and more about not disappearing from myself. I didn’t change for appearances or for how other people saw me. I did it because I wanted a future where I could be honest about who I was, build real friendships and eventually create a life that felt like mine.

That is the reason I’m writing this is because I’m disappointed in myself that I hadn’t seriously tried earlier. But being authentic, even if you have zero clue what authentic actually is and even if people don’t notice, will make you mentally healthier.

So, as I graduate in a little less than a month now and start my life in college, the main takeaway that I want you, the reader, to glean from this is thus: if you know someone, as in recognize but don’t know much about them , go up to them and ask them how their day was. Ask them about themselves and what they like doing. Ask them about their goals in life. Maybe even start a friendship if you like them enough. It’s impossible to know unless you try. Perhaps they were always just waiting for someone to safely help guide their flight out of rough winds.