I made no friends in my first year of college. I got close enough to my roommate, and I occasionally had a connection to someone that was enough to sustain a handful of lunch dates or outings.

But I never got past the stage where every text is sent with apprehension, in case reminding a near stranger of my presence and desire for connection was a nuisance. (What if I missed the hint that they didn't want to develop this relationship further? What if I was being too clingy, or too aggressive, or too obsessive? What if they liked me up until they misread the tone in my texts?)

So I can't really count any of the friendly relationships I formed at college as friendships, exactly, even if they could very well evolve with a little more time and careful navigation.

So I had no friends. And college is hard without friends.

I did what I was supposed to do, according to everyone else in the market for friends at college: I chatted with my seat neighbors in class, I joined extracurriculars, I exchanged numbers with everyone I talked to for any length of time during Welcome Week, I put myself in situations outside my comfort zone if it meant meeting people.

All of that was incredibly hard for me, an introvert who defaults to assuming her presence is a burden on other people. Every conversation I initiated was terrifying. And most of the time, I got nothing to show for that terror.

Meanwhile, everyone I knew from high school was telling stories about and posting pictures of their new friends. My boyfriend, going to college nearby, had found a tight-knit group in his randomly assigned suitemates, as easily as walking into his dorm room and being himself. Everywhere I looked, everyone else had friends.

My overwhelming impression of my first year was deep, aching loneliness.

I felt broken, even though I knew it was logically a game of chance. I just hadn't happened to cross paths with the right people. But that wasn't much of a comfort when I had to budget all my desire for social interaction—small, as an introvert, but not nonexistent—around my boyfriend's schedule, since he was the only person I knew and loved in the entirety of New York City. When he was busy, I had to eat my meals alone and forego any fun activities in the city. I had no other options for company.

The summer is a welcome change because I actually have friends at home. If I want to go to lunch or the movies or shopping, I have at least half a dozen people I can bombard with texts without shame. I'm not isolated anymore.

I wish someone had warned me before I went to college that it might be difficult to connect with other people. Instead, I was presented with a shiny narrative of about friendships deeper than any I had ever experienced; every adult has "college friends" that they still see decades later, or at least that they reflect on fondly, right?

Apparently, it isn't so easy.

So if you're going to college this fall: You might not make many friends or any friends at all, and that's not your fault. You are deserving of someone to text with abandon, and you are not broken if you don't find them immediately.

And if you're in college and you do have friends: Do you have room for one more? Check in with your acquaintances (even if texting them out of the blue is still a little awkward) and see if they want to join your group next time it gets together. Invite someone to lunch. Introduce someone you hardly know to someone you know very well.

If you have the privilege of being in established friendships, reach out to someone without that stability. You might just change their entire college experience.