college
unexpected friends and experiences
this past semester has been nothing short of transformative. i've met so many incredible people who've expanded my world in ways i never expected. startup founders with audacious visions, industry leaders who somehow make time to mentor, and classmates who are both terrifyingly brilliant and refreshingly down-to-earth. it's humbling and exhilarating all at once.
one weekend, i ended up on an impromptu trip with people i barely knew from my econ class. we stayed in this tiny cabin upstate, and somehow between hiking mishaps and late-night conversations, these strangers became friends i now text daily. there's something about seeing people outside the classroom context—away from the polished performances we all put on—that accelerates closeness in ways that feel almost magical.
"what connects us isn't just our ambitions but the moments we admit we're struggling to reach them."
i've discovered pockets of creativity i didn't know existed on campus. a fashion collective that puts on guerrilla runway shows in unexpected campus locations. a group of art students who sneak onto rooftops to draw the cityscape at sunset. runners who meet at 5am and somehow make it seem fun rather than torturous. each community has its own language, inside jokes, and rituals that make being part of it feel special.
what's fascinating is the undercurrent of "duck syndrome" that connects us all—we're gliding seemingly effortlessly on the surface while paddling frantically underneath. it's weirdly comforting when someone i admire admits they're struggling too. the most profound bonding happens in those moments of vulnerability, when the façade cracks and we acknowledge how hard we're all working to stay afloat.
there's something powerful about being surrounded by people who are unapologetically pursuing their passions. my roommate who codes until 3am because she's building something she believes in. the guy from my writing workshop who's already published two sci-fi novellas. the international student who's creating a platform to connect rural artisans from her home country with global markets. their drive doesn't make me feel inadequate; it ignites something in me.
i find myself wanting to match their energy, to contribute something meaningful. it's not competitive in a toxic way—it's this collective current pushing us all forward. when one person breaks through, achieves something remarkable, it expands our sense of what's possible. their success becomes proof that the rest of us can reach our goals too, even if those goals look completely different.
we've created these core rituals that keep us grounded—weekly dinners where phones are banned, spontaneous study sessions that inevitably devolve into philosophical debates, celebrations for even minor victories. these shared experiences form a safety net. when imposter syndrome hits hard (which it does, regularly), there's always someone who can remind you of what you've already accomplished and why you belong here.
i'm learning that being humbled by exceptional peers doesn't have to diminish me—it can actually expand my vision for myself. there's this quote i keep coming back to: "surround yourself with people who make you uncomfortable with settling for less." that's what this semester has given me—a community that simultaneously accepts me exactly as i am and inspires me to become more.
there are days when i wonder if i belong among these incredible people. days when the gap between where i am and where i want to be feels impossibly wide. but then i remember that everyone starts somewhere, and that even the most accomplished people i've met are still works in progress themselves. we're all just at different points on similar journeys.
as the semester ends, i'm grateful not just for what i've learned in classrooms, but for these unexpected connections that have shaped me. for late-night conversations that helped clarify my own dreams. for witnessing peers overcome obstacles that once seemed insurmountable. for finding a community that celebrates ambition while acknowledging vulnerability. college isn't just about building a resume—it's about building a constellation of relationships that illuminate possibilities i couldn't have imagined on my own.