On The Intensity of First-Year Friendships
If you follow the steps at Brighthelm all the way up to the car park, you’ll eventually come to a pile of rocks left over from construction work. It quickly became the perfect lookout: a place to watch the sunset with my friend, have a smoke, and spy on some of the poor East Slope residents. It was quiet enough that we weren’t disturbed, but not so quiet that we had to stifle our loudest laughs.
As graduation gets closer, I realise that in many ways, the first year felt like a dream. No more chaotic swaps between parents’ flats during the week, no more curfew – first year was my year of control, of freedom. It felt so dreamlike that I recently had the urge to retrace my steps up those Brighthelm stairs, just to be certain I hadn’t imagined all the time I spent there. It shouldn’t have surprised me to find that thorns and thistles had claimed our rocks, rightfully so – I don’t smoke anymore, and I haven’t spoken to that old friend in almost two years.
The air that floats through campus during Freshers Week is infectious. Both freshers’ flu and the spirit of extroversion waft their way into the nostrils of eager first years. I even managed to shake off my introverted tendencies long enough to mingle with some of the thousands of people who’d just moved in next door. Desperate to enjoy the last glimpses of the summer sun, and with plenty of liquid courage in hand, it was certainly the easiest time of the year to connect. Whether those friendships could stand on their own two feet by the end of the year, however, is…debatable.
I’ve heard about enough dramatic first-year friendship breakups to consider them a rite of passage. The story is always the same: a deep bond is formed in a matter of weeks, sometimes even days! You just get each other, do everything together, and then something crazy/petty/stupid/”totally out of the blue” happens, and suddenly you don’t speak anymore. For some, the friendship failed because time exposed deep flaws in the relationship. For others, it turns codependent as one or both of you begin to lose yourselves. Or perhaps something as trivial as a miscommunication destroyed your bond. Whatever the cause, these connections burned so bright and so beautifully that they are impossible to forget.
What is it about that first year on campus that wove many of us so tightly together? Mostly, it’s the desire to feel at home. Whether you contribute to your parents’ 1.5 children or were raised by a foster family that never truly felt like your own, you may have found yourself wanting to establish some sort of family dynamic in your house or amongst your friends, almost subconsciously mimicking or compensating for what you had, or didn’t have, back home.
But the truth is, family isn’t built in a day. True connection, true love, takes time and an understanding of oneself that almost certainly isn’t fully developed by 18. Our lack of maturity doesn’t stop us from desiring relationships, but it can warp how they form and grow.
Controversially, I’d argue some of that conflict is necessary. There is an element of self-discovery that only appears in the aftermath of a breakup. Perhaps you realise you need firmer boundaries, or that you’re not actually that keen on spending your Saturday nights crammed into Pryzm. Personally, I wouldn’t know myself as well as I do now if not for the friendships that have come and gone.
If, like many of us, your Freshers’ Week friendships haven’t stood the test of time, my advice to you is simple: keep going, keep connecting. Loss is a part of life that cannot be escaped, but you can decide how it shapes you. Whatever hurts now won’t hurt forever.
Another article you may enjoy – https://thebadgeronline.com/2026/03/six-days-no-water-how-my-landlord-traded-my-basic-rights-to-explore-disneyland/