Growing up, when I pictured college, I imagined Friday nights straight out of Katy Perry’s “TGIF” music video, freshman year roommates who’d become bridesmaids, and hot dates every Saturday night.
As a now graduating senior, I can say that instead of the happiest four years of my life, they’ve been the loneliest.
It’s not because I didn’t go out, join clubs, or make friends. I’m extroverted, heavily involved in extracurriculars, and take advantage of every opportunity I can.
I just found modern college culture isolating.
Social media and technology have made me feel lonely
It started long before the first day of college with a “Class of 2026 Freshman” social media account where incoming students could post photos and captions. By the time I found it, school had started, and it seemed like everyone already knew each other. It wasn’t true, but I already felt left behind.
I never thought I’d be emotionally affected by social media, and I’m not influenced the way older adults in my life think. I don’t care what the Kardashians are doing, and I don’t feel compelled to hop on the next celebrity trend. It’s the smaller aspects of social media that affect me.
I could have a picture-perfect Saturday. I’ll work out, do homework in the Southern California sunshine, and have plans with friends in the evening. A day like that is a dream life. But then I’ll open Instagram and see a group of my friends at the beach. Suddenly, my perfect day turns into Should I have gone to the beach? Why wasn’t I invited? Was everyone at the beach?
People have felt lonely forever — it’s part of the human condition — but with modern technology, we know too much.
For example, I recently discovered my friends were hanging out without me because we share our locations on Find My Friends. If we didn’t share that information, I wouldn’t have known, and my feelings wouldn’t have been hurt.
College friendships don’t feel intimate or personal
One of my best college friends just landed her dream postgrad job. I found out via LinkedIn, not by phone.
It made me realize that my relationships were happening online instead of in person.
Technology allows us to relax in our relationships. I don’t need to attend the birthday party; I can just send a text. Why call a friend about a vacation when I already saw the Instagram highlight reel?
Likewise, at my college, everyone uses an app to throw parties. You can easily invite hundreds of people — friends, acquaintances, strangers — with the press of a button. It sends the invite with a yes, no, or maybe — removing all interaction between host and guest. When my phone pings with an invite, it doesn’t feel like a person exists on the other end.
That’s the problem: relationships on my college campuses don’t feel personal to me.
When everyone is always accessible, connection becomes an illusion that replaces genuine friendship. True friendship is more than commenting on posts and catching up on texts; it’s a commitment to share life’s good, bad, and ugly moments with intention, not an Instagram like.
I was determined to save my last semester
This year, I call people out of the blue. I ask for photos beyond the curated Instagram dump. I say yes every time I’m invited, and I make my own plans when I don’t get invitations.
My plan is working. On my first day of class, I sat near a girl I’d seen around but didn’t know. When the lecture was over, I asked her about her plans for the rest of the day. Then I did the scary thing: I said I was going to dance class and asked if she’d like to come. Now we go together every week. Real friends take real effort. It’s taking a risk.
Life is a long dance, sometimes with a partner, sometimes with a group, and sometimes just freestyling solo, but I’ve learned that if I don’t dance at all, no one will ever join me.
While my first three and a half years of college might have been the loneliest years of my life, I changed that in my last four months — one dance, one phone call, and one step outside the screen at a time.
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