I would never want to be stuck in crowds again

 Imagine you’re walking in a crowded public space. People are flocking to the nearest main entrance or exit, but it’s so backed up with people rushing out. You hear the piercing screams of small kids as their parents are trying to rush them out to avoid the bleeding ears of everyone else in the room. Everyone’s at a standstill while there’s so many people trying to fit through the two sets of double doors and you’re just following the masses. 

     Who are you? Where are you going? You’re not sure, but if everyone is going that way, it must be right. Right? Oh, how you would be so very wrong. You’re overwhelmed by the smells of the food court and the bright overhead lights, and you’re just trying to escape.

     Now let’s think about Option B. You walk over to the dictionary and map and see the bright red You Are Here sticker that was haphazardly placed, and you happen to find another exit. So, you turn in that direction and go your own way. It may be on the other side of the building, so you’re taking much more time but you’re going at your pace, not stuck behind large groups of people, in the overwhelming environment. You’re no longer following what everyone else is doing just for some false convenience. You keep walking and find your exit. You walk through by yourself, completely calm since you don’t have the stress of trying to be like everyone else.

   I used to follow the crowd. I would go under any idea of security and just keep going. Never questioning anything, like a brainless robot whose legs were programmed to play follow the leader. I wish I would have asked myself the question, who are you? Until I found my exit. I honestly believe you’ll have to take the long route or be stuck behind the crowd. It’s how it’s going to go.

    When I was 12, I bought my first branded shirt. It was a popular brand that everyone else wore. It was a long sleeve shirt that was navy in color. I wanted to wear my ripped jeans from American Eagle, because that’s where everyone else shopped and I wanted to see what was so special about a store full of bright yellow lights and loud pop music. I walked in wearing these clothes and felt like people would look at me and see me like one of them. I followed their example and didn’t stand out with who I was. I didn’t know who I was: I was just like everyone else. I liked it at the time, because I didn’t know any different.

     When I was 13 and 14, I felt isolated. I had new interests that I wanted to express through my clothing. I was taken to the mall one day by one of my close friends. This mall was ridiculously small and never busy, even in its prime hours. I walked in that day not knowing what I was getting myself into. It smelled of soft pretzels and salt, as it was the only food place open inside the dead mall.

     “Let’s go inside that store!” My friend was excited. She never feared judgment. Her loud personality was obvious, as she spoke louder as her excitement grew. I saw that look of hope in her eyes behind her round black frame glasses.  

     “Umm… maybe later?” I said. I turned to walk away as my bright red Converse sneakers rubbed against the tile. 

     “No please, can we go in?” She said. I looked at her uneasily. I knew I wanted to go inside the store. We were left in the mall for a few hours. No one could stop me. The next thing I knew, she dragged me inside. Her over-the-shoulder bag swung by her side, and the zippers on my backpack clunked together. Everything else felt silent. I was immediately overwhelmed by all of the things in the store, until I found my way to a shelf in the back that had rows of shirts.

     “Oh hey, look, it’s a shirt for our favorite band!” I looked over at her as she walked over to see, as I was holding up a soft folded fabric square. I liked the shirt. I really liked the shirt. It was a black T-shirt with pink and white lettering including words and names of the bands songs and albums. No one else knew about this interest. I knew that in buying it, I would have to disclose my love for this different genre of music. What was I so afraid of? 

     “Should I buy it?” I looked over at her, hoping she would tell me the answer. I bought the shirt. And I was afraid. I was veering from the crowd. I found my secret exit, down a long dark tunnel.

     For some time after, I wore some shirts of the bands I liked, but I constantly felt judged and excluded. But, I was a people-pleaser and did whatever I could to just get people to like me, and these new, strange clothing choices were not going to help me blend into the crowd. 

     I remember one day in eighth grade, I walked in wearing three new bracelets for a band I loved and was terrified. I still wear the bracelets to this day, now more proud of them than ever. The bracelets are very minimal, as they are all black, one including the teal band name written across it, the other including their triangle and circle logo and the one that I feared the most showing off, it had small little studs on it. They couldn’t be much bigger than a pen eraser and were hardly noticeable, as the silver coloring was not very reflective. I wouldn’t raise my hand that wore the bracelets and try to just hide them. I kept my hand under the desk, just hoping people wouldn’t see. I loved them, but felt like everyone was looking right at them and judging them with every bone in their body. I wanted to express my interests, but they weren’t what was in or popular. I couldn’t relate to anyone.  

     I could have taken a route that kept with the trends. The short route. Following the mass who took that main exit, people who set some sort of influence. This is where many get stuck behind this crowd. But I turned, I looked at my map, found the fading red sticker and found a different path. I nervously walked that way, and I feared the consequences of walking this other direction.

     When I was 15, I started dressing the way I liked. I didn’t care about the crowd, who were too busy walking through the main doors. I was myself. I was happy, and it kept my sanity to be who I was. I was judged and always felt like an outsider, but it didn’t matter to me anymore. I felt a newfound confidence because I was finally sure about where I was going. I walked into school and saw someone else wearing a shirt for something I was interested in. I loved saying “Hey, I like your shirt.” It didn’t matter the interest, band and music, movie, book, video game. Anything. Finally, someone to relate to. Someone else who also found a different exit.

     The path to individuality is difficult. You’ll never find out who you really are if you keep walking though those main double doors. The long route may not be the simple one. Trust me: following everyone though the main exit would have been a lot easier, and I wouldn’t have had to go through this one alone. But, hey, if I never strayed away from the crowd, I would have been sucked along with it, and maybe never escaped. Who wants to be behind those screaming kids?