by Sophia Porter

Sophia Porter (she/her) is a new author, and is excited to have been picked for the first article of Venture! She is a junior acting major with an english literature minor. She is grateful to have the opportunity to share a story that is near to her heart. She hopes that the takeaway is to find home not in structural places, but in safe environments and compassionate people. Find where your own heart gravitates to, notice where you are pulled to and go there. Sometimes it may change you in ways you never expected.

Being alone always frightened me as a kid. When you’re little, you should be playing around, finding things you’re good at. I learned how to act when I found that shapeshifting parts of me to please others made me more favorable as a friend. People wanted to be around me if I mirrored them instead of being myself. So that’s what I did. And I was never alone. In a way, it was more comforting for me to hide who I was, and putting on a performance came naturally for me. I’d found what I was good at.

I believe my insecurities began with my childhood best friend. She enjoyed being around me because I agreed to do the things she wanted to do, instead of arguing with her like her sisters did. Therefore, I became the friend she wanted me to be: obedient and loyal. A yes-man.

I can remember the first time I noticed a difference between me and her; we were sitting on a mat in small group during church. She had on an Old Navy white ruffle dress, and I was wearing my favorite white tulle skirt and a glittery white top, with a bow in my hair.

She told me through a whisper, as we were coloring in Noah’s arc, that she thought the girl behind us was weird. I turned to look behind me, and I saw a girl sitting alone. She was sitting on one of the squares of the mat that was a color, giving the illusion she was literally in her own bubble. She had her hair pulled into a messy ponytail, clearly done herself, with silly bands up both arms. I recognized some of the bands, because I collected them, too. She wore a striped skirt and a t-shirt with a unicorn on it. Looking at her in that moment, I knew I would never have the unbridled confidence that she had.

Years passed, and nothing had changed between me and my friend. But after graduating high

school, life became too surreal for her and she stopped talking to me. It was weird. I was no longer held to be this pet-like friend to anyone. I could finally be myself. This led me to spiral about who I was, what I looked for in a friend, and what I wanted out of life. Maybe I didn’t really know these things.

Then I went to college: the place where a person can find out who they are through trial and error. Unfortunately for me, I still had that unrelenting fear of being alone, so I majored in acting and filled the gaping hole of loneliness with the closest person to me.

My first college roommate was nice enough; she had red hair, blue eyes and a Y2K fashion sense that I could never pull off. We had met on our college’s Instagram page, which led to DMing about the latest Bridgerton stars and celebrity couples we loved at the time. We had a lot in common. As we started getting closer, she would do this thing where I would tell her how I felt, and she would tell me that I probably didn’t really feel that way. Like when I thought her friend was cute she said, “Everyone goes through that. Even me. Don’t worry though, you’ll grow out of it.”

One good memory I have from my childhood with my friend was seeing Frozen in theaters. I remember we both cried when Hans went to save Anna from being frozen, then said, “Oh Anna, if only there was someone out there who loved you.” I remember the anger we both had, and then laughed afterwards because he wasn’t real.

I never thought I would meet Hans in real life.

When I met my roommate’s friend I noticed he took his sense of humor pretty seriously. I thought it was too on-the-nose, like saying “You’re mom” as a reply to every question. How can

it be funny when everyone is expecting it? At least it was not too hard to mirror his conversational tactics, for an actor you would think he would try to be somewhat clever. As more friends began to show up, I found myself going toward the corner of the room, out of everyone else’s way.

He came up to me later in the night and asked if I was okay. There was something I had not noticed before; I swore I could see the danger in his eyes, like the gleam over a sword in a cartoon. Then it was gone.

That shapeshift had stuck with me longer than others, and felt more like second nature over time. A mutual friend of ours wanted us to be in their scene for class, and we agreed. We hung out almost every night after rehearsals, which bled into rehearsing lines on nights we didn’t have rehearsals. I enjoyed being around him, and he actually enjoyed being around me. It was a first for me, and because of this, I would give him anything he asked for. He took the time to notice what made me laugh when I felt like crying. He memorized my coffee order, and knew my favorite color. This guy had a way of stripping me bare without taking my clothes off. I thought this was what love felt like.

Then he dumped me.

The school year had ended and I went home for the summer. If I could really call it that, the term ‘home’ had lost meaning to it over the year, and I did not know what the word meant anymore. It was comforting to be in my childhood house, so I held on to that feeling a little longer. I spent most days on my bedroom floor, looking through old photos and memorabilia of me as a kid. One particular photo, I am looking in the mirror applying makeup whilst sitting on

my Nonna’s bathroom sink in an all green outfit. I was so small and oblivious to the things around me. I don’t remember the photo being taken, but I liked the peaceful feeling it gave me.

At some point it was fall. I was back at school with a new roommate, his name was Nico, he loved the musical Wicked and some guy named Chris. I do not remember the seasons changing, or feeling the first cool breeze. I blinked and the spring buds had turned to rotting yellow leaves.

Winter was just as bad, if not worse. I was alone, and I had been for a while. My greatest fear had come to fruition before me, and I had done nothing to stop it.

The next Spring came and I finally had enough. I was done festering in my own melancholy. If I was going to be alone, I was going to learn how to do it right.

First step: Move away from ‘home’.

Second step: Come to terms with being alone. Third step: Figure out who I am.

To start, Nico and I got a lease on a small apartment just off campus. I lived there, while he went back to New York for the summer. I was going to be alone on purpose. I absolutely hated it.

Why was it so frightening to do things by myself?

I went to Panera by myself for the first time, and my hands were shaking as I ordered my food

from a kiosk. Not even a real person, a tablet, made me anxious.

I found a table in the back as soon as possible, and put my headphones on to help drown out the sound of everyone around me. In hindsight I should have kept them off and made a friend. But I wanted to be alone.

The road to self discovery began with a new Pinterest board and a sage green moleskin journal. I first made a board for the aesthetic of my younger childhood self, the one from the photo, then a playlist with all of my favorite songs, including various artists from the Jonas Brothers to the Little Mermaid soundtrack. As I dug up lost artifacts of myself, I had fun. After about 3 hours of joyous nostalgia, I left and headed to Target.

A small, and yet still as important step in this journey, was to buy myself a lego set. They were primarily for boys in my house growing up; I would watch my brother unwrap lego sets on holidays. I wanted to find one beneath my own wrapping paper, to feel the satisfaction of putting those pieces together.

I built a superhero lego set that day and cried for 2 hours.

Then I put it on my bookshelf, along with the two new books I had bought to get me out of my five-year reading slump, and took a step back to admire my new collection beginning to grow. The old parts of me that had died stood before me, encouraging me to keep going. A coloring book I had, reminded me of the girl sitting alone all those years ago at church. I wonder if she, too, found joy from admiring her own collection.

I picked up the pieces of myself that were still dragging on the floor behind me. I exercised to strengthen those parts (exercise being reading and painting). The art I made portrayed the

feelings I held closest to my chest, the ones that were hard to say out loud.

My favorite piece of art had every kind of blues, pinks and yellows to emulate a sunset, with bright fluffy clouds all around. Off-center to the right, there was a figure of a girl in the clouds. She was faint, and could shapeshift into something else within a moment’s notice, if this acrylic sky were real. I titled the piece ‘Home’.

The painting was somewhat of a self-portrait.

***

I remember the moment I had finally started to feel comfortable in my own skin. I was working at my terrible minimum wage job at 10pm on the first Friday of the school year. Over the summer I felt like I was drowning, unable to keep up with the crowds and their demands, but not tonight. Tonight I was cool, calm, and collected.

Some old guy who was bald, wearing a Life is Good shirt, and looked like he hadn’t had a good laugh in a few years pulled me aside to tell me he had an ice chip in his ice cream. He was adamant that ice, no matter what, does not belong in ice cream, and someone needed to take care of it. Normally when dealing with ridiculous customers I would get too flustered to say anything,

but tonight I smiled at him and asked if he wanted me to remake it for him. He said no, but he appreciated my concern.

For the first time I felt like I was confident, it felt fucking awesome.

When I got home, Nico greeted me from the couch. He doesn’t expect me to shapeshift or change parts of myself for his friendship. It is a strange feeling, to have someone see you for who

you are and have them love you all the same. Especially when that someone is Nico, who hates anyone that smiles at him on the sidewalk.

“You’re home late,” he says, eyeing me as if he doesn’t know exactly where I was.

“You got me, I was with my other lover,” I say, dramatically looking away from him as if we were in a telenovela. “I wanted to tell you, but I just never found the right time. I am sorry it had to come out this way.”

Nico clutches his chest, equally as dramatic, “I. Am. Devastated.”

I mimic him, then laugh as I start to head to my room, as he adds, “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Did the Wicked movie trailer come out?”

“God I wish, but no,” he gestures to the seat beside him on the couch. “Okay.” I take a seat beside him hesitantly.

“You seem different.”

I stare at him for a moment. Somewhat frightened, I respond, “Like, a bad different?” “No. I didn’t mean to say it like that. You seem happier.” And he just smiles at me, a warm smile that expresses he’s proud of me.

He was right, I am happier.