I remember my first day of freshman year vividly: the rush of adrenaline through my veins as I jumped out of bed to get to Marketplace brunch in time, the excitement as I introduced myself to new friends every hour and the sweet confusion of meandering West Campus for hours as I accidentally wandered into Duke Law School while searching for Sanford.
I also remember my first day of sophomore year with great fondness. The thrilling sense of excitement that characterized freshman year had been usurped with a warm comfort as I smiled at recognizable faces in BC plaza and walked campus with the certainty of knowing exactly where I was going. The things that seemed so frightening freshman year — trying to make new friends, navigating Duke’s campus, and getting academically situated — now evolved into second nature, like I was dancing a familiar dance with an old friend. Nothing stepped on my toes, and I fell into a quick rhythm that pulsed in my bones and warmed my heart.
But my arrival to campus to start my junior year carried none of these feelings of excitement or warmth; instead, as I walked around campus after setting up my dorm, I was filled with dread. I searched the multitude of people scattered around the quad on the first day of class, hoping for a glimpse of recognition. All I saw, however, was a sea of strangers, and a hollow emptiness developed in the pit of my stomach.
Where was I? Who were these people? What had happened to the place I’d called home for the last two years?
Although I had known that interpersonal dynamics around campus would be different this semester due to the large exodus of juniors who have gone abroad, I did not expect to see such a drastic shift in the patterns of my own social life. There is a wistful remarkability in this observation — how a beloved place can transform into a mighty stranger when it no longer carries the people it brought you to love.
And so, I spent the first two weeks of this semester yearning for my old life at Duke — the blockmates interrupting intense microeconomic study sessions in my room, the people who I’d see only in passing as we crisscrossed the pathways in front of Perkins but whose smiles I’d grown accustomed to seeing daily, and the constant supply of friends with whom I could eat dinner, study and even do the laundry. During the later hours of the evening that I’d normally spend with people, I find myself alone.
Often, in solitude, my thoughts spiral. I find myself wallowing in the misery of my loneliness, plagued by the imagination of the experiences I might have relished had I not chosen to stay at Duke this semester and a nagging worry of how these sentiments might be exacerbated in the months ahead.
But as I am learning, life cannot be a leap from one incredible high to the next. My search for a constant adventure in every day is not only futile but also dangerous. While mundane moments of alone time may bring dark thoughts that surface our innermost fears and insecurities, they must nevertheless be confronted.
I am unraveling my constant need for social stimulation through seizing opportunities for personal reflection. There is a unique joy in building relationships that are simply between one’s self and a moment, like the vibrant pink and purple sunset sinking behind the Chapel that I stopped to admire last week. Or the soft cool breeze bringing respite from the harsh summer sun as it filled my lungs this afternoon. Or even the feeling of pleasure that envelops my consciousness as I wake from a heady afternoon nap.
Perhaps it is only through spending time by ourselves that we can learn to feel everything so very deeply, even the sweet pain of missing the people we love. Growing to appreciate the mundane nature of everyday life has only heightened these feelings of overwhelming affection for those who are close to my heart.
In the meantime, I’ll continue to become my own friend so that when I meet those who are gone from campus for now, we can enrich each other’s lives with the experiences we weathered alone.
Advikaa Anand is a Trinity junior. Her pieces typically run on alternate Wednesdays.
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Advikaa Anand is a Trinity sophomore and an opinion managing editor of The Chronicle's 119th volume.