“How have you changed the most over the past four years?”

A sophomore asked me this, looking for a quick quote for a story. I thought about her question, thinking about who I was freshman year and different moments where I changed. And then I gave her my answer: my hair looks way better.

There were a lot of things I wanted to talk about. I could talk about the unquantifiable way that my friends changed me, by giving me new ways to think about identity and success and happiness. Or I could talk about my personality: I’m probably more confident, less afraid. More open-minded. But most soon-to-be graduates could tell you that. And the more I thought about it, the harder it was to find something significant and unique. All I could think about was how after coming here and having all these new experiences and opportunities ... I didn’t really change.

I came to Northwestern wanting to be Preetisha 2.0. I was going to discover my passion in life, fall in love, lead several student groups. And with that, leave behind parts of my personality that I didn’t like: the tendency to take everything personally, the jealousy I had for my older brother (going to the same college as him really helped with that one!). In my eyes, Northwestern was the bridge that would transform me into the adult I’m supposed to be after I graduate.

Of course, that didn’t exactly happen.

Most of the time, college didn’t feel transformative. It felt stagnant. Every quarter, I saw myself slipping into the same habits—uncontrollably crying to my mom about a bad midterm, getting upset over a harmless joke made at my expense, comparing my grades to my brother’s. Even as a senior, I came home for Thanksgiving and immediately asked my brother about his job search experience so I could see if mine measured up. Why hadn’t I grown out of that? Where was all the Northwestern change I was promised? My last college classes were coming to an end, and it seemed like all I had done in the past four years was go from a confused teenager to a more-confused 20-something.

If college is supposed to be a transformative time of change and personal growth and mistakes-turned-into lessons, I think I failed. Because I can still get overly emotional, or overly jealous of my brother, or overly anxious about things that don’t need to be stressful. Most of the dreams I had freshman year never came true, and there are still so many ways I want to grow before I enter “the real world.” But these four years are not our last chance.

I went through Northwestern thinking it was the only time of my life where I could be confused and directionless; the last time to make stupid mistakes. Yes, it’s bullshit to say that the biggest way you’ve changed in college is your hair. But thinking you need to have everything figured out by the time you wear a purple gown is bullshit, too. Northwestern is a great place to learn and to grow and to start becoming an adult, but it’s just that—a start. I will aggressively miss being a part of this community, but I am still becoming.