You're unpacking a box in a dorm room that doesn't look like home. Your parents have driven away (or gotten on a plane). The dorm hallway is full of other eighteen-year-olds, also away from home for the first time, also pretending to be fine while feeling terrified. It's evening, maybe two in the morning. You can't sleep. You're homesick in a way you didn't expect, because you thought you were ready for this, and maybe you are, but you're also still scared. That's when you find this letter waiting for you. It's from someone who knows you, who believes in you, who has been where you are.
You're going to feel homesick, and that's normal
The first few weeks of college are a particular kind of lonely. You're surrounded by people, but many of them are still figuring out who they are. You're in a new place with new rules and new expectations. Everyone seems to be having the time of their life, which makes it even worse when you're the one sitting in your dorm room at 2 AM with a crushing feeling of dislocation. Like you don't belong here. Like you made a mistake. Like everyone else got the memo about how to do this except you.
But here's the truth: almost everyone feels this way at first. The people laughing in the hallway are probably also scared. The roommate who seems so confident is probably also questioning everything. You're not broken. You're not weak. You're homesick. And that's actually a sign that you come from somewhere good, from people who matter to you. That's not weakness. That's love.
You don't have to have it all figured out yet
Everyone will ask you what you're studying, what you're doing with your life, where you're going after graduation. You might not know. You might think you know and then change your mind three times before you graduate. That's fine. You're eighteen. You're allowed to not know. You're allowed to be curious about things that don't lead anywhere. You're allowed to change your major. You're allowed to fail classes and try again. You're allowed to discover that your childhood dream isn't what you actually want anymore.
This is the time to be curious. To try things just because they interest you. To have conversations with people who think differently than you do. To read books that confuse you and argue about ideas until 3 AM. That's what college is actually for. Not to figure out your entire life, but to have permission to explore before you have to make the big decisions.
I'm writing this on the day you left for college, after everyone else has gone. The room looks empty in a way I didn't expect. I want you to know that it's okay to miss home. It's okay to feel scared and lonely and overwhelmed. But I also want you to know how capable you are. I've watched you figure things out your whole life. You're smarter than you think you are. You're braver than you think you are. And you're never alone, even when you feel like you are. Call me when you need to. But also—go make mistakes. Go get lost. Go find out who you are when no one is watching. I'm so proud of you already. And I miss you. And I can't wait to hear about all of this.
You're going to make real friends
Some of the people you meet in those first few weeks will become lifelong friends. Some of them won't. That's okay. You don't have to be friends with everyone on your dorm floor. You don't have to go to every party. You don't have to be the cool one or the serious one or any particular version of yourself. The people worth keeping will like the real you, not the version of you that you think you're supposed to be.
And finding those people might take longer than you think. It might take a whole semester, or a whole year. You might not make your best friend until sophomore year. You might be lonely for a while. But the loneliness is not permanent. And the people you meet here—the ones who understand you, who challenge you, who make you laugh—will change your life.
Take care of yourself, even when it's hard
You're going to be tired. You're going to be stressed about exams and papers and money and whether you're making the right choices. You're going to eat a lot of dining hall food and probably too much caffeine. You're going to skip sleep to finish assignments or because you're having too much fun to stop. You're going to feel overwhelmed.
So here's my practical advice: go to bed sometimes even when you're not done with work. Eat vegetables occasionally. Go to class even when it's hard. Talk to a counselor if you're struggling with depression or anxiety (everyone does at some point, and there's no shame in it). Call home when you need to. Take breaks. You're running a marathon, not a sprint. Pace yourself.
This is the time to be exactly who you are
For the first time, you're in a place where almost no one knows your past. No one knows the mistakes you made in high school. No one knows what your family is like or what you were like in middle school. You get to redefine yourself. You get to be curious, weird, serious, funny, ambitious, artistic, sporty, bookish—however you actually are. And if it turns out that's different from how you were at home, that's okay. You're learning who you actually are, separate from the people you grew up with.
But don't use this freedom to pretend to be someone you're not. Use it to discover who you actually are. Try things. Make mistakes. Change your mind. Be honest about what matters to you and what doesn't. The friends worth having are the ones who like the real you, not the constructed version.
College is overwhelming and exciting and lonely and beautiful all at the same time. You're going to grow in ways you can't predict. You're going to discover things about yourself that surprise you. And you're going to look back on these years with a strange mix of relief (that it's over) and nostalgia (that you're no longer there).
For now, just breathe. Call home sometimes. Go to class. Make friends. Read things that interest you. Get some sleep. Be kind to yourself. You're going to be okay. You're going to be better than okay. You're going to find your people and discover who you are. And someday, when you're older, you might write a letter like this to someone else who needs to hear it. Write a letter with Dear Forward—to your future self, to someone you love, to capture this moment before it fades. Hold onto what matters. It will matter forever.