College In A Pandemic

My first semester of college was spent primarily in solitude. 

My dorm overlooked the lawn where students would frequently gather, and every morning when I woke up I’d stare out the window at the masked faces walking past, hands intertwined and smiles hidden in corners of eyes… and I wondered how many others were like me; how many others were cooped up in their rooms observing from afar.

So much of how we interpret the world around us is based upon what we see. If we don’t see others in our situation--even if we’re in the overwhelming majority--we feel like we’re falling short. The biggest question I had day to day, throughout the whole semester, was Am I doing enough? This reached from making friendships to embracing opportunities to learning to grow in my faith. I always got the feeling that I was behind. My perception that my peers were excelling more than I was was only accentuated by Instagram, as I frequently wasted time mindlessly scrolling through perfectly arranged picnics, weekend road trips, extravagant meals and music releases, feeling more and more numb with every smiling face my eyes glossed over. 

No matter what my profile looked like, no matter what image I constructed to give off, my first semester of college was rooted in loneliness. What I learned more than anything during these months was how to be alone without feeling lonely. 

Sometimes you meet a group of people, and for just a moment they feel like the right ones, the ones you’ve been waiting on your whole life. There’s this palpable excitement in the air, so strong you can taste it on your lips the car ride home, and you roll down the window so strangers can hear the laughter of the people you love most in the world, and you stretch out your hand to feel the wind comb through your fingers, wishing you could hold onto this moment where heart beats run wild and anything and everything seems possible. 

That feeling is so fleeting until you actually find it. I have yet to find it, which makes it all the more painful when the hour I anticipate a text turns into a day, a week, a month, a lifetime… until that night in the car when anything felt possible feels like just a distant memory. It’s a vicious cycle of loneliness, and it’s okay if you're in it now and it’s okay if you’re in it for a while. I’ve grown to accept the reality that sometimes I am my best friend, and sometimes I’m my only friend. When you're content with who you are and stop comparing yourself to others, being alone is no longer something to be feared.

It’s soul-crushing when the reasons you came to college are stripped away from you to some degree. But you have to remember that you are where you are for a reason and you’re living in this time for a reason, and just because you aren’t living your dreams right now doesn’t mean that you won’t some day. It doesn’t mean that you’re any less valuable than the people on social media who seem like they’re dreams are all coming true. So when you look out the window and see all the people who have more friends than you do, don’t compare yourself to a constructed “normal.” There are so many others who feel the way you do, and wherever you are or whatever you’re feeling is far too complex to be held up to a mirror of societal standards.

So when you walk off campus and roam the streets, your self as your sole companion, stop and feel the cool breeze press against your chest like a tight hug, smell the coffee wafting off of your shirt from the morning’s roast, hear the empty words of peers fading further into the background, and rest in the strength that comes with silence and the peace that comes in being alone.