This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at MUJ chapter and does not reflect the views of Her Campus.
College life is often painted as this never-ending highlight reel; friends everywhere, endless parties, and memories you’re supposed to carry for life. And sure, some of that is real. But there’s also a side that no one talks about which is the quiet ache of feeling completely alone, even when you’re in the middle of a crowded room.
Sometimes I feel like college loneliness deserves its own subject in our syllabus. Because honestly, nothing really prepares you for it. Not the first-day orientation icebreakers, not the rush of joining clubs, and not even the group projects where you bond over complaints more than the actual work.
By the time you hit third year in law school (yes, I’m a law student btw), you start to realize that friendships aren’t as straightforward as they seemed in the beginning. The people you once swore would be your ride-or-die buddies somehow drift into new groups, societies, or just different priorities. And suddenly, the same campus that once felt so full of possibilities, starts to feel like a maze; you’re there but constantly wondering where exactly you belong.
It’s not that I don’t have friends, I do. The kind who will forward me notes five minutes before class, tag me in random reels, or save me a seat in the back row. But here’s the thing: sometimes even with all the snaps, group chats, and inside jokes, you end up feeling more invisible than included. It’s like being at a packed concert, surrounded by noise and energy but realizing that one song you’re waiting for never plays.
What makes it harder is that college doesn’t hit pause while you’re trying to figure yourself out. The readings pile up, assignment deadlines keep coming, internships need applying for, and the question of ‘what’s next?’ never really goes away. It often feels like everyone else is running a perfectly planned race; posting LinkedIn updates, talking about moots and research papers, while I’m jogging somewhere in between, doing things but never feeling like it’s enough. And when you’re already a little disconnected, that constant comparison only makes the loneliness louder.
Here’s the part people often miss: loneliness isn’t about having no friends. It’s about not having the kind of people you can really open up to. It’s laughing along in a group but walking back to your home with a quiet hollow you can’t put into words. It’s wanting to text someone when you’re low, but stopping yourself because you don’t know who would understand without calling you “too much.”
Law school teaches you about constitutional rights, contracts, and case laws but nothing about the quieter battles you end up fighting with yourself. It doesn’t prepare you for the days when you’re physically in class but mentally miles away, tired of keeping up the act of being fine.
But here’s what I’m slowly learning, feeling alone doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you. Sometimes it just means you’re in a phase where you’ve outgrown certain friendships but haven’t yet found the new ones that fit who you’re becoming. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe growth is supposed to feel lonely sometimes. The right connections will come, just not always on our timeline.
If you’re reading this and quietly nodding behind that screen, I want you to know you’re not the only one. Behind all the lit night-outs and perfectly curated reels so many of us are figuring out the same emptiness and that’s really why I wanted to write this; to remind both you and myself that it’s normal even when it doesn’t feel that way.
Maybe being surrounded but alone isn’t a curse. It’s just a chapter, a messy in-between chapter in a bigger story we’re all still writing.
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