When did you realize you aren’t who you thought you were going to be?
When I was 9 years old, I came home crying and told my mother I wanted to be Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen (weirdly specific, I know). When I was 14, I was determined to work for the CIA as a spy by the time I was 25. Even when I was 20, I was blissfully dreaming of moving to some crowded metropolis and becoming a prolific poet.
Needless to say, I’m currently 21 years old and I’ve done none of those things. For most of them I haven’t even come close (no surprise twin, unfortunately). This isn’t to say that I’m some stereotypical directionless millennial, I was just using these temporary dreams to consider the kind of person I wanted to be.
At 9 years old, Mary Kate & Ashley could do it all, in my eyes: they had a “hit” song, and more movies written for them than I could count. When I got older, there was nothing 14-year-old me wanted more than to be as cool, clever, and bad-ass as a secret agent. And 20-year-old Tyler wished she was as aloof and mysterious and the poets whose works she read tirelessly.
But, one day you have to face the music. I’m an only child with no hit songs or straight-to-dvd movies (yet), I’m way to clumsy to ever pull off a secret mission, and I’m basically the antithesis of the “aloof” writer-type. That doesn’t mean I’m some kind of epic failure and it’s totally normal to want to be someone else for a little while. But what I’ve learned is that the end of the day, that type of escapism never lasts because eventually you’ll ended up running into yourself and realize I’m not who I thought I was going to be, and that’s okay.