The day before the second semester of university began, as we were anxiously bemoaning the prospect of new classes and new unknowns, a brilliant friend of mine made a wry observation.  “Making friends”, she said, “is like a lot of pretending to have fun in hopes that it’ll become real.”

Not the most comforting of statements to begin the week with, but that remark stayed with me as I navigated the first week of classes. Being a freshie entering a major in which there were very few familiar faces, I had plenty of opportunity to see my friend’s principle in action. Each time I met new people, I found myself falling into a kind of hyper-friendly chatter that wasn’t unnatural so much as performed. For me, it was “faking it till you make it” at its best – not necessarily a bad thing, considering that the alternative seemed to be awkward pauses, or being thought aloof (always a risk for someone who’s been told she has an unapproachable face).

As the week wore on, though, a disconcerting realisation grew on me: that primitive fear of being alone still lurked within me. Not exactly an earth-shattering realisation, since that fear differs from the desire for companionship by only a very, very fine line. But I pride myself on being independent (to the point that my circle of friends know me as the one most likely to become a crazy cat lady in future), so it was a bit of a tough pill to swallow. You shouldn’t be feeling so anxious, scolded the ‘independent’ voice as I sat in a seminar of animated seniors. Stop fidgeting and wondering if people are judging you. And every time a conversation with a new friend was going well, the little voice popped up in the back of my head, wondering, Are you just faking this because you don’t want to go to class alone? Aren’t you supposed to be a strong woman who don’t need no friend? And so forth.

Here’s the thing – our age is the age of individualism, where independence, rebel-heroes and lone rangers are celebrated. Admitting our dependence on others for happiness and wellbeing has, at least for me, something unnerving about it. At the same time, we’re paradoxically told that it’s knowing people and making connections that will get us somewhere in life, to the frustration of introverts everywhere.  We normally manage this delicate balance just fine, but sometimes – like being thrown into an all-new environment, for example – the world shifts just a little bit off-kilter. Or maybe it is our sense of self that teeters.

But really, putting aside all this fancy theorizing, there’s no denying that life is better when you have friends to laugh with, to face this daunting world together. So yes, the next few weeks for me may be a lot of pretending to have fun, and trying to overcome the not-fun fear of being alone. Yet maybe, just maybe, neither of these things means I’m somehow less independent for it, or that the friendships I form won’t be real and amazing. Who knows? – I might even learn to make friends with my fears.