As I hauled all my belongings into the cramped elevator and headed up to what would be my new home, there was only one thing on my mind – I was excited. It was the feeling of being in a new place with new people.
It was the first time I had felt this energy in a long time.
Yet, as I watched my mother’s car pull out of the lot, I found myself in a situation I was all too familiar with.
I was alone.
Transferring from Illinois Central College after my first semester, I was drawn to Bradley because of its proximity to home and the campus community. At ICC, I thrived in classes; however, a lack of social interaction implanted a feeling of emptiness.
My parents and I decided that I needed a change of scenery, so second semester I moved into an apartment by myself. Despite not leaving the apartment for the first couple of days, I remained optimistic about the situation.
The day of transfer orientation, I wore my nicest outfit: a Bob Ross shirt peaked out under my black cardigan. It was crucial that I impressed the peers that I would soon meet.
Upon arriving, I was sat with seven others. As they conversed, my attempts to socialize went unnoticed. It was like I was invisible. Was something wrong with me?
I stood up and wandered out of the building. The bitter cold froze the tears the wind blew from my eyes. I called my mother to tell her what happened, and she assured me that this wouldn’t become a pattern.
She told me I wasn’t alone.
Peering at my emails, my eyes lit up with joy. There would be a student activities fair the next day. I hopped onto Bradley’s website and enthusiastically scribbled down every organization that I wanted to seek out. I came up with more options than anyone could possibly manage at once. I was determined to be a part of something.
Walking to Markin, I recited what I would say when approaching the different student groups.
“Hi, my name’s William Craine and I’m really looking forward to joining you-,” I muttered. “No, that won’t work, they’ll think you’re uptight.”
I skipped through the door of the unfamiliar building. There were already plenty of students; however, there weren’t any tables in sight. I wandered until I found my way upstairs where the organizations were set up in a ring.
Unfolding my list that was covered in eraser marks, scribbles and creases, I proceeded to walk around the tables. After making one lap, I noticed that I hadn’t seen anyone on my list. I walked around again. And again.
Hopeless and frustrated, I crumbled the list into a ball and tossed it into the garbage. It was worthless.
Once again, as the cold wind whipped into my face, tears began to roll down my cheeks.
“Why did I think it would be any different here?” I texted my parents.
In classes, I observed that everyone already knew each other. Feeling hopeless, I was too scared to say anything to anyone. If there was a table, I would sit alone. If there were desks, I’d find myself at the back.
My girlfriend is a transfer student as well. She has struggled to make friends and to meet people; just like myself three semesters earlier.
How am I to tell her that it will get better when she knows that I still haven’t made any friends?
Over the past two years, little has changed. I still struggle to socialize and make friends, but I’ve realized that I’m not as alone as I thought I was – there are others who have gone through the same loneliness and likely still are. I got lucky to have been able to be a part of the Scout; however, I can’t help but feel let down. Being a transfer student is not a transition that is as easy as they make it sound. The Bradley community is close, which means if you’re trying to break in it will not be an easy feat.
When I look out my window and see students playing ultimate frisbee, football, soccer, etc., I can’t help but want to be down there with them. I still can’t help but feel a little alone.
