The power to become

I think people spend too much time talking about who they want to be and not enough time talking about who they already are. It’s always about the next step; the next goal; the next milestone. Nobody ever asks, “What’s your favorite thing about yourself today?” Like right now; in this moment. Not the person you’re hoping to become five years from now. Not the polished, grown, fully developed version of you. Just you, today.

So I’ve been thinking about that. About who I am, right now. And honestly? My favorite thing about myself today is that I’m no longer afraid to just be a person.

That might sound vague, but let me explain. I spent most of my life feeling like I had to be something more than just myself — like I had to be an upgraded version, a constant work in progress, a walking potential-filled blueprint of a person. Every decision, every hobby, every interest had to serve a purpose. If I liked something, I had to be good at it. If I was good at something, I had to make it worth something. And if it wasn’t worth something, then why was I even wasting my time?

I don’t know where exactly this pressure came from — probably a mix of the way I was raised, the environment I grew up in and my own stubborn need to be someone who mattered. But it was exhausting — almost like living inside a never-ending job interview, except I wasn’t even sure what position I was applying for.

At some point, I got tired of it. Or maybe I just outgrew it. But either way, I stopped seeing myself as an unfinished project and started seeing myself as a person.

And let me tell you: It has changed everything.

The freedom of not performing 24/7

I think every first-generation kid understands what it’s like to feel like they are constantly representing something bigger than themselves. There’s a weight that comes with being the first: the first to go to college, the first to have a shot at something different, the first to step into spaces that weren’t necessarily designed for people like you. And that weight? It never really goes away.

I’ve carried it my whole life. Every class I took, every award I won, every opportunity I chased — it all felt like it had to mean something. It couldn’t just be for me. It had to be for my family, for my community and for the sacrifices that got me here.

And don’t get me wrong — I am so proud of that. I want to make my family proud. I want to do something that matters. But I’ve realized that if I spend my entire life only chasing what’s impressive, I’ll miss out on everything that’s actually fulfilling.

So I’ve started letting myself enjoy things just because. I let myself listen to music I like without overanalyzing if it’s cool enough. I read books that interest me without wondering if they’ll make me sound smarter in a conversation. I take naps without feeling guilty (this one took some work).

And the craziest part? The world didn’t end. My ambitions didn’t disappear. My goals didn’t become meaningless. If anything, I feel more capable of achieving them now, because for the first time, I’m chasing them out of love, not obligation.

Letting myself change without apology

There’s this idea people have that you have to be consistent to be taken seriously. That you have to pick a personality, a style, a dream and stick to it forever. But honestly? I think that’s the biggest lie we’ve ever been told.

I have been so many different versions of myself over the years. And every single one of them felt like the real me at the time.

I’ve been the straight-A, school-obsessed academic. The introverted bookworm who couldn’t hold a conversation to save their life. The loud, talkative kid who wouldn’t shut up. The person who thought they had their whole career planned out at 16. The person who realized at 18 that they actually don’t know anything for sure and probably never will.

And guess what? None of those versions of me were wrong. They were just different stages of growth.

I think about how five years ago, I saw the world completely differently than I do now. And in five more years, I’ll probably look back at this version of myself and think, Wow, I was really out here thinking I had life figured out.

And that’s a good thing. It means I’m growing. It means I’m not stuck in one place, trying to force myself into a version of me that no longer fits.

I’ve stopped apologizing for changing. I’ve stopped feeling like I owe anyone an explanation for why I think differently now than I did before. People aren’t statues: we’re meant to evolve.

Falling in love with the small stuff

For so long, I thought the best parts of life were the big moments: the achievements, the milestones, the grand accomplishments that people write about in speeches. And, sure, those are great. But lately, I’ve realized that my absolute favorite parts of life are the smallest ones.

Like the feeling of walking around campus when the weather is perfect, headphones in, pretending I’m in a movie. Like the way my family group chat never lets a single embarrassing childhood story die. Like late-night conversations that start off as jokes and somehow turn into the deepest, most honest confessions.

I used to be so focused on becoming someone that I forgot how much joy there is in just existing — in letting the moment be enough, instead of constantly thinking about what’s next.

And the best part? The more I let myself enjoy the now, the more excited I feel about the future. Not because I’m rushing toward it, but because I finally trust that whatever comes next will be worth it.

One of the things that has been so rewarding to me lately is the simple joy of going home. I know that may sound odd, especially considering I’m only 18 and not too far from home, but now that I’ve been away at college for a little while, I realize just how much my family means to me. Growing up, I was always surrounded by a sea of voices — loud, laughing, debating and shouting over each other. I took it for granted. I was always rushing through life, thinking I’d get to spend time with everyone later. I didn’t think it would ever change.

But now? Every visit back home feels like a treasure. It’s a feeling I can’t quite describe: the joy of walking through the door and being embraced by the massive Cuban family I’ve known my whole life. The over 400 people at home — cousins, aunts, uncles and neighbors who are practically family — have shaped the person I am today. And after only six months away, I can feel the difference in how I approach those visits now. The hugs, the food, the laughter — it all feels so much more precious. It’s like I’ve found this deep appreciation for the noise, the chaos, the simple moments spent sitting at the table with everyone. I can’t wait for the next family gathering: it’s not something I rush through anymore.

And let’s not even get started on the food. If you’re from a big Cuban family, you know there’s nothing like a home-cooked meal that makes you feel connected to generations before you. It's in the rice and beans, the lechón, the tamales — it’s in every dish, every bite, every moment spent around the table.

The magic of getting lost in a story

Lately, I’ve also come to realize just how much books shape who I am. Growing up, I was always the kid who had their nose in a book. I’d escape into other worlds, lose track of time and feel like I lived inside the stories I read.

I never really realized how much power a good book has until I found myself in the hustle of college life, trying to keep up with assignments, exams and life itself. At first, I didn’t pick up books for fun: it was all textbooks, articles and research papers. But then, out of nowhere, I picked up a novel one night, and I was hooked again.

I’d forgotten how satisfying it feels to completely lose yourself in a world that isn’t yours. There’s something about getting lost in a good story that reminds me of the importance of rest, of slowing down, and just letting yourself be immersed in something without the pressure of needing to achieve. Books have this magical ability to take you out of yourself and your environment, and into a place where you can just exist for a while.

There’s something truly beautiful about that. I’ve realized I don’t need to fill every moment with productivity. It’s okay to disappear into a novel and let my mind wander. It’s okay to be consumed by the pages and live a little outside of my own experience. It’s a reminder that there is more to life than just rushing from one task to the next.

So, what’s my favorite thing about who I am today?

If you asked me this question a few years ago, I probably would’ve given you an answer that sounded impressive — something about my ambitions, my achievements, my drive.

But today? My favorite thing about myself is so much simpler.

I love that I’m still figuring things out. I love that I no longer feel the need to prove my worth by constantly achieving something new. I love that I let myself change without feeling guilty about it. I love that I find joy in the smallest, most ordinary moments.

I love that, for the first time in my life, I don’t feel like I have to be anything other than exactly who I am right now.

And that? That feels like enough. 

Ruben Diaz is a freshman from Miami, Fla. majoring in Molecular and Cellular Biology and Psychology.