I hesitate using the label “introvert”. It’s easy to imagine someone sitting alone reading a book and being as happy as can be. But not every introvert is like that; of course there are varying types and extremes of introverted personas. I consider myself to be an introvert, but every introvert needs close friends. I was known to mine to be fiercely loyal, even to the point of irrationally loyal. And I had the silly idea that I would be able to keep those I love close on a daily basis.

I had the opportunity to move on campus my first two semesters of my freshman year in college. I decided that I would stay at home, rationalizing practical reasons. My house is only ten minutes away from campus. It would save two thousand dollars a semester. And these aren’t bad reasons, but they weren’t the reasons that convinced me to avoid dorm life.

It took two semesters living off campus as a college freshman for me to realize that I was stubbornly rejecting the opportunity of forming new friendships in exchange for time with those friendships I once enjoyed daily (that I now had started only enjoying monthly).

But the most powerful reason of all for staying at home was comfort. I became comfortable with my life. Being an introvert, having many friendships was not a priority of mine. The few close friends I did have, I wanted desperately to keep. So staying off campus allowed me to keep a small part of that past life, as if I could maintain those friendships and not have to worry about developing new ones.

I was so wrong. Instead of my idea of enjoying both words, I was caught in an awkward transition between the two. My friends and I were in two different stages of life; some went to college faraway, others started working in town, and some were still in high school. But being the only one to go to my university meant that I was detached from a major component of their lives; school. Now that I had been removed from that environment and busily introduced into a new one, I found that making time for them was not as simple as it sounded. I could clear my schedule, have all my work done in advance, even plan on events with them, but in the end it usually didn’t matter. Circumstance would always shut me down. My schedule didn’t match theirs, they had academic contests one weekend, and I one the following. It was like forcing two pieces of a different puzzle together. And I wasn’t liking the picture it was creating.

More than ever, I felt lonely. I wanted more than anything to be part of my friend’s lives, but I couldn’t. And so I got by the semester, taking it one day at a time, telling myself “When this semester ends, I’ll see them again.” But again, I had generated a false perception of reality.

My second semester was when I became really miserable. I had difficulty concentrating, I lost interest in things I used to have passion for, and for once in my life, I started becoming genuinely annoyed with people. Like I was resenting them for my self-inflicted isolation.

This was when I discovered the only person I had made an effort to start and keep a friendship with was transferring. My closet college friend? I had him in one class, and spent time with him outside of class maybe three times a month. But I enjoyed that time we spent. I felt like I was breaking out of my shell. And irony had slapped me in the face for it.

You only live once, and I was letting life passing me by. My freshman year was spent with people I never bothered to forge attachment with, which had nothing to do with their personality. It had everything to do with my stubbornness to let go of the friends I rarely saw.

And though I knew I was heading down a path of self-destruction, I kept walking. I would have felt guilty turning around and making new friends down a different path. I was trying to force an incorporation of my past life with my new life, and it looked like a terrible sequel to a really good movie.

So with the superficial rant on the table, I must say that I regret my choice to isolate myself by living at home. It was practical, but I missed an opportunity to forge friendships I wouldn’t have been able to make otherwise. The only way I’m going to make new friends is if I force myself to. And what better force than learning to live with strangers?

Even knowing all this, I still have an undying desire to be with my friends from high school. Even if some “moved on” by making new friends, I couldn’t do the same. I still will probably fall for the same trap again, because for me, it’s better to cling to the people you love most than to try to find their collegiate replacement.

But all roads lead home. This has been a difficult year for me, and I regret that I spent it like a hermit. I don’t know if I can live without that hesitation to reach out. I’ve never worn my heart on my sleeve, which is why the prospect of new friendships seems difficult for me. I know that I will be able to see my past friends regularly again one day, but I can’t live another semester miserable. I have to get past my shyness, make friends, and get over it. Because you do only live once, and I don’t want my social life to consist purely of studying and waiting to get a text from an old friend.

We have to have balance; we can’t strive academically, or in any aspect of life, if we are socially detached. Well, maybe we can succeed without other people involved. But it sure is miserable.