In my first semester of college, I found myself in a Creative Expression course, a class designed to encourage self-discovery and expression through various artistic forms. Surrounded by students who seemed to have their lives perfectly plotted out like bestselling novels, when asked to pen down what we thought defined us, I felt like my own narrative was still in the initial rough draft stages – full of crossed-out lines and coffee stains. Little did I know that those messy pages would eventually become my greatest strength.
As college students, we’re often told to try and ‘find our voice’. But what exactly does that entail, when you’re struggling to juggle four assignments due by 11:59 pm, trying your level best not to have to pick between adequate sleep and a social life, and most importantly, the ultimate question, figuring out how to separate your laundry properly?
In the somewhat systematic chaos (oxymoron, I know) we call college life, storytelling emerges as a powerful tool that helps us articulate our experiences and in a weird way, make sense of our own lives. The thing about college is that it’s more than just a carefully curated collective of facts and theories. It’s about learning to weave the pieces of knowledge that we receive on the daily, together, into our own narrative. Be it integrating a piece of yourself into a historical essay analysing the Harappan civilisation, exploring the psychological depth of a film character for a course project, or infusing your personal insights into an essay on the anatomy of the human eye, each assignment is ripe with opportunity, for you to express your individuality. Reshuffling academic tasks into personal reflections truly allows one’s distinct perspectives to shine through.
But here’s the plot twist – storytelling isn’t just about the big, life-changing, eye-opening (pun very much intended) moments. It, in fact, lies in the tiny tales we share over mess dinners, the personal anecdotes we bring in to break the ice during group projects, and the personal essays and one-on-one conversations we pour our hearts out into at 3 AM. These seemingly trivial moments remind us that everyone around us is navigating their own messy drafts, filled with uncertainty and growth.
Social media has transformed us into curators of highlight reels, conveniently showcasing perfectly filtered moments backed by carefully crafted captions. Real (or honest?) storytelling, though, delves deeper. It’s about sharing the deleted scenes, the blooper reels, and all those moments that didn’t make it to the main.
As I navigate through my college years, I’ve come to realize that every student is inherently a storyteller. Our stories exist in those midnight conversations shared with others about our dreams and fears, our failures and achievements, and awkward moments like confidently blurting out the wrong answer to a question you misunderstood in a 70-person class (true story). They exist in the small victories we celebrate and the setbacks that shape us.
Those coffee stains and crossed-out lines, you grow to realize, are not imperfections, but authentic marks of a story worth telling. Because in the end, am I not just a student, standing in front of my story, asking it to make sense of who I am?