If life were kind, no one would feel truly alone.
Social connection is a basic human need, essential for emotional well-being and collective strength. Yet, I’ve often struggled with it. Sometimes, the only reason you stay friends with someone is because you’ve known them for a long time. I never thought that was enough. When people from grade school or high school drifted out of my life, I’d quietly let them go. My logical mind would fill with comforting cliches. “There’s always a reason.” “When one door closes, a window opens.” “I chopped down the cherry tree.” Whatever. It didn’t stop the loneliness.
It was a bitterly cold winter during my second year of university. I lived in a student house with my oldest friend of four years and five other girls I barely knew. We didn’t really hang out. The living room was empty except for an old couch and a dirty mattress propped up against a beige wall.
That day, everything felt overwhelming. Classes piled up. I slipped on ice, ruining my favorite trousers. In a lecture, I sat next to a guy who quickly moved away. It was a bad day. When I finally got home, I thought about visiting my friend upstairs, maybe to vent. But I hesitated. We didn’t often go into each other’s rooms. We didn’t really talk about feelings or insecurities. We recycled small talk about missing high school or needing new makeup—except I didn’t really miss high school, and I didn’t know or care enough about makeup to want new products. I didn’t know why I so often said things I didn’t mean. Maybe that’s why we weren’t real friends.
Maybe that’s why I didn’t have any real friends. Maybe that’s why I felt alone.
It isn’t something you can admit easily. Not having a boyfriend is normal. Lots of people are single. Not being close with family wasn’t unusual. But having no close friends was a real red flag. A sign to others that the world had rejected me. We’re not buying what you’re selling. We will not validate your existence.
The mirror said I was beautiful. My grades said I was smart. My family said I was funny and interesting. I had everything, but no one to share it with.
That loneliness slowly shifted how I see the world. It’s easy to think progress is just about new ideas or technology, but I’ve come to understand it’s also about the quiet, everyday connections we build with others. Just as I had to stop pretending and look for friendships that felt real, communities like people thrive when there’s genuine care beneath the surface.
I’d trade all my accomplishments for that kind of connection, because, in the end, the strength of our communities—and everything they sustain—depends on it.
