Lorde’s Ribs isn’t really about being young. It’s about realising you’re not as young as you thought you were. And clinging to the people who make that realisation less terrifying.
College sells us a very specific idea of friendship: instant besties, dorm-room deep talks at 3 a.m., people you meet in the first two weeks, and somehow keep forever. But most of us know that isn’t how it actually happens. The friendships that end up mattering—the “Ribs” friendships—usually don’t arrive on cue.
They sneak up on you.
Your “Ribs” friends aren’t necessarily the ones you meet first. They’re the ones who show up when the dream “isn’t feeling sweet”, when life feels heavier than your syllabus promised. They’re the people you end up walking with through midnight streets—not because there’s a destination, but because the night feels less overwhelming together.
In Ribs, Lorde sings, “I’ve never felt more alone, feels so scary getting old.” That line hits harder in college than people admit. Not because you’re actually old, but because you’re becoming aware. Aware that friendships are no longer automatic. Aware that people leave. Aware that everyone is quietly terrified of growing out of the versions of themselves they liked best.
Your “Ribs” friends are the ones who let you sit with you in those difficult times without always trying to offer solutions.
They’re the people who know your weirdest habits, your most repeated stories, the playlists you keep going back to because new music feels like too much effort. They’re the ones who spill drinks on you, borrow your clothes, crash on your bed without asking, and somehow make even the most chaotic nights feel safe.
And no—this isn’t just about first year.
Sometimes you find them in your second or third year, once the social noise dies down. Sometimes it’s a lab partner who turns into a late-night food run. Sometimes it’s someone you barely noticed until both of you were exhausted enough to be honest. College has a way of wearing people down over time. When the novelty fades, what’s left is real.
What makes “Ribs” friends different is that they’re not built on proximity alone. They’re built on repetition. Inside jokes that don’t even sound funny anymore but still make you laugh. Conversations that loop and loop but never feel wasted. On shared silences that don’t need to be filled.
Lorde says, “You’re the only friend I need/laughing ’til our ribs get tough.” It’s not literal exclusivity—it’s emotional recognition. It’s knowing that some friendships don’t need to be impressive or curated. They just need to feel like home.
And the truth is, those friendships won’t be enough forever. People graduate. Schedules stop aligning. Life pulls everyone in different directions. That’s the part Ribs doesn’t shy away from, the ache of wanting to hold onto something you know will change.
But maybe that’s the point.
Your “Ribs” friends aren’t meant to freeze time. They’re meant to mark it. To remind you that at some point, you were exactly where you were supposed to be—laughing too hard, staying out too late, feeling scared and alive at the same time.
If you’re in college right now and you haven’t found them yet, you’re not behind. You’re just still becoming. And when you do find them, you’ll know, not because it’s dramatic, but because it feels easy.
Like laughing until your ribs get tough.