What we need to realize, collectively, is that nobody who is genuinely interested in your perspective is going to challenge you to a debate. If they wanted to understand you, they’d ask you to explain your beliefs—they would have a discussion.
When I go out somewhere with a group of gays, I know people might laugh at us or give a side-eye. To be fair, we probably look a little bit ridiculous or over-dressed. But at least now, I’m not alone in my experience. We’re in on the joke together.
“Playing basketball is, like, really hard,” said player Michael Savarino. “It’s like...sheesh! Y’know?”
We, the Young Professionals, cultivate resumes, not characters. We sacrifice nutrition and seek out networks. We spend our four years mastering whatever roles it takes to get through each week. The starving student who is hungry for degrees, not dinner. The daydreamer who thrives off power naps and ambition rather than a proper sleep schedule. The anti-social socialite who overcommits to clubs and events, yet always feels alone.
And what if the self I’d been living with for the better part of a year and a half, the one without energy, without hobbies, without hope for good things, wasn’t really me?