Fitting in is probably the most difficult thing we will ever have to do, and is likely the one thing we will spend our entire lives doing. The need to fit in is perhaps the biggest fault in man.

As I ponder over some famous personalities like Elon Musk or Mark Zuckerberg, they weren’t exactly known for fitting in. They stood out.

Last year, I learned more about myself than I had deemed possible. It was the beginning of a new journey for me — my first internship. And for the first time in my life, I was surrounded by a number of people vastly unlike me. They were different personalities, loud, confident and flamboyant. I was the opposite, quiet, reserved and insecure.

During the first few days, going up on stage felt like a nightmare. My legs would shake uncontrollably, my mind would freeze and my pupils would dilate.

However, I was not one to let nightmares stop me from fulfilling my dreams. Despite my frightened state, I always volunteered. Eventually, instead of having to force myself to volunteer, I found myself wanting to. When the time came for group presentations, I felt a pang in my chest. I felt as though restraints were preventing my heart from beating properly, causing it to tip and turn.

Needless to say, preparation and presentation always go differently. Usually in school I would find myself in groups where people were usually unwilling to work. This time around, my groupmates cooperated enthusiastically enough for the most part. Nevertheless, the real thing didn’t go as planned. Instead of connecting with the audience like we’d been taught over the last week, they read their lines from the slides and were barely audible over the microphone. I was just as nervous as them, and some of them kept whispering in my ear to pick up the slack for them.

As I was passed the mike, I looked around at the audience. They were all older than me by a good two to four years. I took a deep breath. This was not the time to freeze. I had to work with my strengths. I was good with words, and it was time to use that. I had memorised the basic point of my speech, all I had to do was find a way to make my audience listen, understand and react. The best way to do that was to relate with them.

I walked around the stage as we had been taught to in one of the workshops, and I tried copying one of the guys’ last week, who had dominated the stage and the entire auditorium applauded for him. I assured myself that making pauses was nothing to be afraid of. I could say anything.

Surprisingly, it went well. My groupmates applauded me, impressed and relieved. I felt my cheeks burning and my legs wobbling as I took my seat. I breathed as though it was the first time in ages, I had been able to do so. That was the moment I finally broke free from the shackles of fear which had held down most of my life, leading me to many embarrassing moments. I was finally able to speak up and hold the stage without trembling. I found myself, my true self.

The last of my internship was most exhilarating. Many came up to me, complimenting me on my speaking skills. I couldn’t help the wide smile on my face. I scolded myself, knowing full well the dangers of letting it get to my head. I returned the compliment and gave a fond goodbye. My own family had criticised me for taking up this particular internship, but I don’t think there was any other place where I could have explored myself so thoroughly and freely. They had all been people I had never met before, so I had nothing to fear from their opinions.

Furthermore, the way I was dealt with and in turn the way I dealt with others in a professional capacity, helped me explore the kind of professional I wanted to be one day. I realised the strength and weaknesses I possessed and who I might be one day. I even interacted with children living in poorer areas, who were being taught at charity schools. I learned all about who they wanted to be and how much harder it would be for them to get there. They were hesitant to talk to me and people like me, and I was eager to listen. We met in the middle ground. For a while I would talk, and then they would nod along or answer my questions.

When I talked to their teachers, I learned many of them wouldn’t be able to receive education past the tenth grade. It broke my heart, and I resolved to do something about it one day. I only hoped that one day would not come too late.

Published in Dawn, Young World, February 25th, 2023