The transition into college has to be one of the hardest things I've ever done. I didn't think it would be bad: I moved less than 20 minutes away from my parents with bad traffic, and surely with so many people I'd be able to find someone I connected with. Let me just say, I was completely unprepared.

College is weird, okay? You're constantly surrounded by people, but you don't know any of them. No one knows what they're doing, everyone's trying to figure out how exactly to adult, and there's a whole new way of life with very little accountability. People are confused and trying to fit in and struggling with grades or relationships or finances or the future or literally everything you can think of.

Worst of all, everyone around you seems to be making friends and adjusting better than you. Are you the only one having trouble fitting in? The only one sitting by yourself at lunch every day? The only one who feels like things will never get better? The only one crying yourself to sleep because it hurts and you've never felt more alone?

No, you're not. How do I know? Because I've felt that way too. I still do a lot. I'm not through my first semester yet, and I'll be the first to admit that it's been rough. More than rough, honestly. It's been incredibly, horribly, mind-numbingly hard. I have felt more by myself, more cut off from everyone, more alone in the past few months than I ever have in my life. I've felt myself sinking down, spiraling into a depressive mindset that just reinforced the idea that I would never be enough for anyone, never make friends, never be okay.

The thing about those thoughts is that they're lies. Really. I know they seem so real. I know they feel like the only thing that could be true. But they're not. Because you're not alone, and you're not the only one who feels lonely.

Don't get me wrong: loneliness as a feeling is very, very real. It hurts, and it's good to acknowledge you're feeling that way. You can't just pretend away something like that, and trying to can only make it worse. What's not real are the thoughts that come creeping in when your guard is down, about your worth or your future or the people around you.

I know that when you're feeling lonely, it can feel like it's never going to get better. When it's halfway through the first semester and you feel like you've made no progress, it can be hard to believe that things will really ever be all right, that you're not doomed to be alone for the rest of your life. This sounds trite, I know when I say that things will get better. But the thing is… They will. Believe me, I thought that wasn't true, too. And I'll admit, if you simply wallow in your misery and make no attempt to help yourself, things might stay the same. But I'm willing to bet that if you try to get rid of this loneliness, eventually it will disappear.

How on earth do you do that, though? Everyone already has friends! You're just a poor loner, doomed to watch from the outside as everyone else in the world has fun, right? Wrong. If you think you're the only poor loner, you're completely wrong. So many people feel just as lonely and confused as you do. They're all waiting, just like you. Waiting for someone else to take the initiative. Waiting for someone else to come be their friend. Waiting for someone else. Just like you. And here's the secret: If you spend all your time waiting, you'll never find that someone else. Everyone else is waiting, too. I know it's hard to be the one to put yourself out there (I have horrible social anxiety, after all), but after the initial plunge, it gets so much easier.

For you, reader who is so lonely they're coming to this random Odyssey writer for advice, I have a challenge. Talk to one person. Just one. It can be someone in your classes, someone you've met in a campus organization or at another event, someone who's an upperclassman, someone who's a freshman, anyone. Just talk to one person that you want to be friends with, and tell them what you're struggling with.

I can predict what will happen after that point: You'll feel very uncomfortable and pathetic for a moment, admitting that you feel lonely to someone you've known for only a few months at most. You're going to be afraid you're about to get judged, be afraid you're about to get laughed at, be afraid they're going to be awful. But as soon as you look into their eyes, that feeling will disappear, because you'll see understanding there. If they're an upperclassman, they'll tell that they felt the same way, assure you that it gets better, start inviting you to things as much as they can. And if they're a freshman, they'll do more than say they've been there; they'll tell you they are there. They get it. They thought they were the only one. And suddenly, the two of you have a solidarity that you didn't have before. Suddenly, you're both aware that you're not alone, and if you're going to be lonely, you might as well be lonely together.

Admitting you're lonely is admitting weakness, and it's hard. Being vulnerable is so difficult. But it's also so worth it. No one knows what you're struggling with until you tell them. You can't get help until you open up. Your loneliness won't start to go away until you face it head-on.

And you won't even notice when it disappears. One day, you'll be sitting at a table at lunch with your friends, laughing so hard you can't breathe about some inside joke, and you'll look around and realize that you aren't lonely anymore. It can happen, I promise. Please don't lose hope. Please don't stop believing. Please try. I'm not saying it won't be hard, but I promise, it will be worth it.