“Everybody wants a village, but nobody wants to be a villager.”
This is a phrase that’s been all over my For You Page on TikTok lately, and it really stuck with me. We’re constantly told that college is supposed to be the best time of our lives, filled with the best people we’ll ever meet, but honestly, more often than not, it can feel pretty lonely. Sometimes, it feels like we’re all on our own little islands, connected only by location and a shared disappointment when the Hokies fumble another football game (soon to be turned around by James Franklin).
I’d checked most of the boxes that are supposed to build community. I’d joined clubs, I was part of two sororities, I talked to people in my classes, I had friends, but at the end of the day, sitting in my apartment alone, I realized I was still missing something. I didn’t know who would bring me soup if I got sick, who would celebrate an A on a paper I worked really hard on, or who would pick me up if I didn’t have a ride home in the middle of the night.
Having friends isn’t the same as feeling deeply supported or truly known and realizing that was freeing. It helped me understand that if I wanted that closeness, I couldn’t wait around for it to appear. I had to be more present in my friendships and more intentional about showing up for the people already in my life.
A big part of that shift was learning to say yes. For a long time, my default was to decline plans, sometimes because I was tired, sometimes because I felt awkward, and sometimes because staying in felt easier than putting myself out there. I started noticing how many chances for connection I was shutting down before they even had the chance to turn into something more.
So, I began saying yes. Yes to coffee with someone I only kind of knew, yes to study sessions, last-minute plans, and invitations that felt outside my comfort zone. Not every yes led to a lifelong friendship, and that was okay. What mattered was showing up and giving relationships the time and space to deepen.
I also added small, concrete things to my routine. Texting friends to ask how they were, letting them know I was thinking of them, and showing them that I valued our relationship. One time, a friend was upset, and I brought her matcha and flowers. Another time, I knew a friend had been searching for something that had been sold out for weeks, so I turned on notifications from Target and ordered it for her the second it came back in stock.
Sometimes this meant doing things that were inconvenient to me, like giving a friend a ride back from the airport late at night, but that phrase kept coming back to me: “Everybody wants a village, but nobody wants to be a villager.” The more I showed up for others, the more I realized I was slowly building the kind of community I had been longing for.
I’m not going to embellish. I didn’t suddenly become someone with a perfect group or a packed calendar. I just stopped waiting to be taken care of and started taking care of people I already loved. I still have nights where I go home alone, and I still say no sometimes, but now, I know who I can count on, and I know I’m someone others can count on, too.
College doesn’t automatically hand you a village, but it does give you countless chances to become a villager, and sometimes, all it takes to feel a little less alone is deciding to show up.