An Ode to Freshman friendships
I love making friends. And before you tell me that this statement sounds like the cheesiest possible baseline characteristic of a children’s TV character, let me defend myself.
Making friends feels a bit like a video game, leveling up in connection with each passing conversation. I revel in the at-first awkward cadence of small talk. I bask in the satisfaction of making someone laugh for the first time and I almost certainly embrace any opportunity to exchange a long-awaited hug.
Consider me, perhaps, a hopeless romantic for the platonic?
My freshman year of college brought over 43,000 potential friendships waiting eagerly to be built. And though not every individual I’ve met has been destined to become my best friend, I’ve found a distinct beauty in the natural ebb and flow of relationship building. Freshman friendships, both significant and insignificant, are an anomaly of your collegiate (and, quite frankly, life) experience.
Image Courtesy: Laila Mayfield
To every first-semester friend I made,
Thank you for answering the texts I could send only to you in the first couple weeks of the fall semester. Your company was kind enough. In the months where simultaneously everybody and nobody felt like a friend of mine, I still admire your willingness to make small talk and compare class schedules with me, even if it never fleshed out into a fully-formed friendship. Those surface-level conversations seemed to matter most to me.
Our once-frequent walks to grab iced coffees and walk to class may be few and far between nowadays, but I’m okay with that, and I trust that you are too.
To the hometown friends I brought to Gainesville,
You are comforting conversations and old inside jokes that haven’t been told yet on campus. You’re a refreshing taste of familiarity in a city I still don’t fully know my way around. I am so thankful to have a number to call when campus seems a little too large for my small-town mind.
I like how little the passage of time matters to our friendship. Every interaction starts immediately where we left off, our caffeine-spurred conversations no different than when we were back home on the patio of our favorite local coffee shop. Catching up on life with you is momentary clarity.
And to the hometown friends I now see only in passing,
Thank you for quiet smiles from across the Marston library and gentle “Hellos” on the way to class. Even though our relationship has changed since high school, I still trust the kind eyes I see when walking through campus every once in a while. Sometimes change is exactly what a relationship needs.
To the “sisters” that now feel like family,
Honestly? Thanks for waiting for me.
Though we might not have met on the first day of school, I like to think that you rarely strike gold on the first try. I remember the first time a study room date became a de facto social hour (remind us to never study together again, by the way) and thinking, why didn’t I get to know these girls three months ago?
Image Courtesy: Laila Mayfield
Our friendship is built on shared interests (our mutual affinity for the High School Musical: The Musical: The Series soundtrack), shared humor (the comedic simplicity of using Snapchat filters at inopportune moments) and most importantly, shared passion (for both our own goals and each other’s). It seems to be a shared value of each other’s company that grounds us all. I want to dawdle in your dorms and doodle in your notebooks while you study for chemistry exams every day.
And to my freshman year roommate,
Thank you for the silent exchange of TikToks from across the room and tolerating the ever-present spread of unworn clothes on the floor. Our friendship may have been fostered virtually for nearly six months, but it still dumbfounds me daily that an Instagram DM could evolve into a friendship like the kind we have. I consider myself pretty lucky.
You introduced me to the painful, messy beauty of Flaming Hot Doritos and the Cincinnati oddity that is Skyline Chili. In return, I gifted you with the joys of Greek yogurt and gummy vitamins. Our give-and-take friendship is captured in our respective lifestyles, adjusted ever so slightly to mix-and-match the behaviors of the other.
In writing this, I frequently find myself looking at the custom-made “Room 505” poster we have plastered on my previously barren bedside wall. It’s such an awkward, awesome representation of our friendship, oversaturated in iconic orange and blue hues. I find that our dynamic looks a lot like that in reality — wild, slightly weird, often marked by my love language of physical touch overriding your general hatred of hugs, and filled with spirit for both the school and our friendship.
I’m not sure how I’ll be able to live without you. Literally. Who else is going to handle my periodic bouts of messiness and offer me their Great Aunt’s famous caramels every once in a while?
Image Courtesy: Laila Mayfield
Freshman year breeds change — the kind that stares you in the face and challenges you to test the boundaries of your current relationships while fostering the growth of new ones. It’s tough, but it’s rewarding. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Strike Out,
Writer: Laila Mayfield
Editor: Olivia Hansen
Laila (pronounced LIE-luh, unfortunately) Mayfield is a writer for Strike Magazine GNV. When she's not drafting a piece on her latest pop culture hyper-fixation, she can probably be found running (very slowly) around campus, updating her Letterboxd, or eating a bowl of Special K Red Berries cereal. Got any questions (or film recs)? You can reach out to her on Instagram @lailamayfield or send any inquiries by email lailamayfield@icloud.com.
