Chapter 1
“Should I wear this top with jeans or overalls, Mom?”
At the time, that question felt far more important than it should have. I was getting ready for college orientation, but the real concern was not what I was wearing. It was everything else. How would I make friends, and how do you even begin conversations with strangers? What happens if the classes are harder than expected, or if I cannot keep up? Those thoughts followed me onto campus, lingering beneath the surface even as I tried to appear composed.
What stayed with me most in those early days was the contrast. There was excitement in the unfamiliar, but it was paired with a quiet and persistent uncertainty. Moving from Boston to New York City was not drastic, yet the distance felt significant. Home was no longer thirty minutes away, and the small comforts I had taken for granted shifted in subtle but noticeable ways. My bed shrank to a twin XL, and my room, once a private space, was now shared with two people I had never met.
Understanding college in theory turned out to be very different from living it. In those first weeks, my perspective shifted from day to day. A good conversation or a strong grade could make everything feel manageable, while a quieter day could bring back a sense of isolation. Walking through the halls, I noticed how easily others seemed to connect, laughing in groups or lingering in conversation. That ease felt distant to me, something I had not yet figured out how to access.
It is unsettling to be confronted with the reality of who you are and how you are perceived. In my case, that awareness made me want to change almost everything about myself. What grounded me, though, was a quieter realization. I would rather be fully known and accepted for who I am than briefly liked for a version of myself that is not real.
That tension showed up most clearly in the spaces that were supposed to feel familiar. I had assumed my roommates would become an immediate source of comfort, but that expectation did not quite hold. They formed a connection with each other that I struggled to step into, leaving me feeling slightly removed from my own living space. At the same time, my classes failed to ground me. Whether I was sitting in Intro Italian or trying to follow along in Anthropology, I often felt detached from the material. I continued to attend, but without any real sense of engagement.
Change, when it came, was not immediate. It happened gradually, almost without me noticing at first. I began talking more with one of my roommates, Stacy, and what started as casual conversation slowly became something more consistent. One night, I offered her some of my dinner, paneer tikka masala, and that small moment opened the door to something larger. We started to spend time together more naturally, grabbing lunch, walking through Lincoln Square, and settling into an easy rhythm. What had once felt distant became familiar, and eventually, close.
Around the same time, another connection formed more quietly. I found myself speaking more with the girl I sat next to in Anthropology. I had noticed her before but never worked up the courage to say anything. Once I did, the conversation came easily. Her name was Jenna. We had passed each other in the halls before, but never spoken.
What became clear over time was that none of these relationships developed instantly. They were not the result of any deliberate effort to force connection, but rather small, consistent interactions that accumulated into something meaningful.
With those connections came a shift in how everything else felt. The environment became less overwhelming, my classes more manageable, and the spaces I moved through each day less anonymous. I no longer felt like I was observing from the outside.
Looking back, nothing changed all at once. It came together gradually, through small moments that, over time, made the unfamiliar feel like something I understood.
By Juliana Capasso
Juliana Capasso is a junior at Boston University studying Film and Television & Public Relations. Outside of her academic responsibilities, she spends her time exploring the city with friends, reading, listening to music, and journaling.
For over 20 years, the Campus Clipper has been offering student discounts in NYC, from the East Side to Greenwich Village. Along with inspiration, the company offers students a special coupon booklet and the Official Student Guide, which encourages them to discover new places in the city and save money on food, clothing, and services.
At the Campus Clipper, not only do we help our interns learn new skills, make money, and create wonderful ebooks, we give them a platform to teach others. Check our website for more student savings and watch our YouTube video showing off some of New York City’s finest students during the Welcome Week of 2023.
