If I could sum up my first year of college in one word, it would be “searching.” Searching for the right classes, the right clubs, the right rhythm — but most of all, the right people.

Coming into college, I don’t think I realized just how much social life would feel like a balancing act. Or, maybe more accurately, like speed dating but for friendships. You’re constantly meeting people in dining halls, lecture halls, dorm lounges, club events or random sidewalks. Everyone’s names start to blur together, but there’s still this underlying pressure to find your group.

In high school, friendships were more structured. Your class schedule practically decided who your friends would be. If you had five out of six classes with someone, chances were you’d become close through proximity alone. The routine created the relationships. But in college, everything opens up. Schedules differ and people major in vastly different fields, such as your floormate being a philosophy major from New York while you’re a music and human and organizational development major from California. That freedom is both beautiful and terrifying.

I remember early in my fall semester, there was an unspoken urgency to “click” with people quickly. Some people around me formed groups right away, even assigning each other cute little nicknames, matching outfits for tailgates and creating private Instagram spam accounts. From the outside, it looked like they had it all figured out — and maybe they did. Or maybe they just figured it out faster than I did.

However, I also began to notice another pattern. Even within those tightly-knit groups, there was constant movement. One week, someone would be inseparable from one group, and the next, they’d be sitting with a totally different crowd in the dining hall. That’s when I first started hearing the word “FOMO” thrown around — Fear of Missing Out. It was everywhere. People joked about it late at night after parties or events they didn’t attend, but underneath the jokes, I could sense it was real. FOMO wasn’t just about missing a party. It was the quiet fear of being left out of something bigger — like being left out of the college experience we were all promised. We’ve all seen it in influencers’ posts or the glossy brochures about campus life. Even during my own orientation day, I remember the endless hype about building friendships and creating memories. But when you’re not in the right crowd, it’s hard not to wonder if that idealized version of college is slipping further out of reach.

Mia Wilson, an influencer at Vanderbilt, has built a platform around embracing that complexity. While her main demographic is younger, mostly ages 13 to 17, she’s intentional about showing the less curated side of life, even when it’s uncomfortable. 

“It motivates me to share darker or more vulnerable moments of my life. If my challenges can be posted and help even just one person feel like they’re not alone, then I’ve done my job right,” Wilson said.

For her, being open about her mental health struggles back in high school isn’t just about relatability but impact.

“I love being genuine and authentic with my audience…I love sharing the good and bad sides of me on social media,” Wilson said.

In a way, that sentiment mirrors what so many of us are trying to do here: find something real beneath all the polished versions of college life. There’s so much value in the things that don’t always make it onto the feed. Watching people like Wilson be so open reminded me that no one’s life is flawless or one-dimensional. Maybe it’s okay not just to stay open to different people, but to different versions of myself, too.

Sometimes I floated. Sometimes I was part of a group. Sometimes I tried to be both. Floating was liberating in a way. I could walk into a business panel and strike up conversations with people I’d never met. I could go get coffee with someone from my HOD class one day, and then I could study late into the night at Central with a Blair friend the next. There’s something incredibly freeing about not tying yourself down too quickly. But it also came with its own set of insecurities.

Because, even when I loved the people I met, I still questioned: Should I be hanging out with someone else? Am I missing out on deeper connections? And that feeling, I realized, wasn’t unique to me. 

Abigail Silver, a first-year student, questions whether others have hidden struggles as well. 

 “At Vanderbilt, I notice there’s a sentiment that people should always be ‘put together.’ So I often wonder if people also may be struggling,” Silver said.

It’s almost like we’ve all internalized this idea that somewhere out there is the “perfect” friend group, the “Friends” sitcom-style crew that just clicks, shares everything and has each other’s backs through every all-nighter and heartbreak. And maybe that group does exist, but we’re learning that real friendship takes time, trust and willingness to grow together. You can’t fast-track that experience.

I’ve also had to learn the difference between being liked and being known. It’s easy to meet people who like your Instagram stories or wave to you across campus. But the people who know you — who know when you’re spiraling before finals, who sit in silence with you when you’re homesick, who hype you up after a performance or roast you for your questionable decision-making skills — those friendships are rare and worth holding onto.

Now that the year’s wrapping up, I’ve been thinking about what everyone’s doing. One of my peers just joined a research lab and is already talking about graduate school. Another is flying back to New Jersey for the summer, still undecided about whether they’re even coming back next semester. Some people are moving into off-campus apartments together, splitting furniture costs and sending each other TikToks of aesthetic kitchen setups. A few are studying abroad next year. And some, like me, are going home this summer, working, taking classes and trying to figure it all out.

We’re all on different paths already, and that’s something with which you need to make peace early on. The people you share 2 a.m. cookie runs with in August may not be the same ones you’ll see every day next fall, but that doesn’t make those memories any less real. 

“I’ve come to terms with being okay that not all my friends are gonna be my closest friends forever,” Catherine Lawson, a first-year student, said.

The truth is, some people will drift, and you have to let them. I’ve felt disappointed when people I thought I could trust didn’t turn out to be who I hoped they were — but that’s part of the experience. People change, and sometimes, they just weren’t meant to be in your life long-term. Instead of clinging to those expectations, focus on finding people you feel comfortable with and the ones you can be fully yourself around. Please remember to be okay with friendships evolving or fading. It doesn’t mean something went wrong, it just means you’re growing.

To all the incoming first-years: College friendships are constantly shifting, so don’t stress about forming a picture-perfect group right away. My closest friend now was someone I barely spoke to during orientation, while another person I thought would be my go-to disappeared from my life by winter break. Focus on showing up genuinely for the people who show up for you. It’s okay to float, to try different groups and to feel a little lost. And when the FOMO creeps in (because it will), remind yourself that social media is a highlight reel, not the full picture.

So, as I close out my first year, here’s my advice: You don’t have to rush. Sometimes it’s enough to just be — to sit on the quad, laugh with someone new, text that person you’ve been meaning to hang out with and to say yes to something unexpected.

Friendship in college is messy, fleeting, magical and real. And the best part is, we’re still only getting started.