“The Versions of Me”

A few weeks ago, I ran into someone I hadn’t seen in years.

The kind of person who knew me in a different lifetime—when things felt lighter, simpler, and honestly, a little louder.

They smiled, said hello, and then tilted their head and said,

“You’ve changed.”

It wasn’t meant harshly, but for some reason, it stayed with me all day.

Changed?

I mean, sure.

But wasn’t I supposed to?

I remember the version of me they were referring to.

The girl who laughed so loudly in school corridors, who knew the lyrics to every trending song,

who replied to texts instantly, who didn’t need a moment to herself after every conversation.

I liked her, too.

But I’ve also met other versions of me since then.

Quieter ones. Softer ones. The one who takes a little longer to answer texts because her energy is somewhere else.

The one who overthinks what she says in a group chat.

The one who now knows peace is sometimes better than proving a point.

But you know what’s funny?

Depending on who you ask, you’ll get a different version of me.

To some, I’m the quiet friend who barely speaks.

To others, I’m talkative, loud, even a little too much.

Some say I’m warm. Others say I’m reserved.

One person told me I’m “so deep,” another called me “mysterious,” and someone else once thought I was just plain rude because I didn’t wave back fast enough.

It’s wild, how many people think they know you.

And how often you start to wonder if you really know you.

The truth is, I’ve spent a lot of time trying to match people’s expectations.

Trying to stay consistent. To be understood.

To not confuse anyone.

But it got exhausting.

Because who I am is not a static thing.

I am not a single shade. I am a shifting sky.

There are days I feel like I’m glowing—on fire with ideas, laughter, energy.

And then there are days I just want to be still. Listen to the rain. Let people talk around me and not feel the need to add anything.

And there are days in between those, where I don’t know what I feel. I’m just... here.

And for the longest time, I felt like I was doing life wrong.

Like I needed to pick a version and commit to it.

Be the “fun one,” or the “deep one,” or the “reliable one.”

But I’ve realized something that changed the way I look at myself:

You don’t need to be easily understood to be worthy of love.

You don’t need to be consistent to be real.

You don’t need to have one “true self” figured out to be valid.

We’re not meant to be finished products by twenty-two or twenty-five.

We’re mosaics. We’re drafts. We’re collections of moments, phases, heartbreaks, late-night thoughts, and slow morning coffees.

So if you’ve ever felt like you’re too many people…

if you’ve ever wanted to scream, “But I’m not always like this!”

I want you to know—you’re not alone.

You’re allowed to grow. To shift.

To have seasons where you shine and seasons where you go quiet.

To not always have an answer ready when someone asks “What’s next?”

Your worth is not tied to how together you seem.

So breathe.

You don’t have to figure it all out today.

You don’t have to perform. Or explain.

You can just be.

Take the pressure off.

Sit with yourself.

Listen to your own silence.

Meet the version of you that exists when no one else is looking.

She’s enough.

She’s real.

And she’s still becoming—just like you’re supposed to.

Author’s Note (Avni Singla):

This one came from a very real place in me. I’ve been all versions of myself lately—some I like, some I’m still learning to understand. Writing this helped me feel a little more at peace with it all. If it made you feel that too, even for a moment, I’m so glad we found each other here.