Stage 1: Denial

There is no way. I am just psyching myself out. I began to scroll through my latest playlist on my phone for reassurance. I mean, I do have pretty great music taste. No one loves Drake — one of the most popular artists in rap, one of the most popular music genres at the time — as much as I love Drake. I continued to scroll through all of my guilty pleasure songs that are overplayed on the radio. How could this be? Even my music taste is basic.

Stage 2: Anger

In an attempt to get my mind off this awful matter, I got on Twitter. Maybe I could go through my favorites to cheer me up. I began to laugh at all the funny videos and memes and forget about why I was upset in the first place. Then I realized the name of the account that was bringing so much joy to my day: COMMON WHITE GIRL. I turned my phone off and could feel my face turning red with anger. Is there anything original about me?

Stage 3: Bargaining

I started getting desperate. I began digging for anything about myself that would set me apart from your average teenage girl. I play volleyball, along with thousands of other teenage girls. I enjoy writing, but that is probably one of the most basic interests one can have. For hours, I searched for anything to prove to myself that I was not basic, but I came up with nothing. I questioned everything. Why God? Why would you let my worst fear come true? I questioned my parents; how could they raise me to become something like this? No parent would be proud. This could not be. There is no way that I am basic.

Stage 4: Depression

I had always teased my sister for conforming to the ways of your average college girl. And there I was, just as guilty as her, and I was still in high school! This could only get worse when I go to college. Soon enough, I will be amongst all the other generic girls at my college campus. This is one life sentence that I cannot escape. No matter how far or fast I run, I cannot avoid my future of becoming a cookie-cutter college girl. I had become very hopeless. I lost all interest in my everyday activities; how could I accomplish anything with this thought haunting me?

Stage 5: Acceptance

As I walked the halls of my school I could not help but stare at the girls who were different and not the stereotypical admissions website girl, like myself. Then I reached the final phase, acceptance. If I am happy at Ole Miss, then I should go to school at Ole Miss. If Nike shorts and oversized T-shirts make me happy, then I should wear them. If listening to Drake makes me happy, then I should listen to him. If all of my hobbies and interests make me "basic," at least I will basically be happy.