Melissa L.
Photography by Peyton Mears
If you’re reading this, I hope these words make you feel a little more comfortable, seen, and understood.
This letter is for anyone who feels ungrounded, confused, or emotionally isolated. I want to open up about feelings that don’t always have a place in everyday conversation — grief, uncertainty, and the search for connection — because I know many of us carry them quietly.
This past summer, I experienced grief for the first time. At 21, I had never lost someone close to me, so I didn’t know what it would really feel like until it happened. In May, I lost my Lola, my mom’s mom, to cancer. Just two months later, I lost my grandmother on my dad’s side. Losing two matriarchs so close together was one of the deepest and most complex experiences I’ve ever gone through. The grief was not linear, with most of the feelings coming in waves, sometimes gentle and other times crushing. I found ways of coping through what the loss had taught me.
It made me grateful for small, ordinary things I once overlooked like waking up and moving my body each day, and sharing a laugh with a friend. It reminded me to nurture relationships, even when life gets busy. I don’t reach out perfectly — no one does — but I’ve learned that a small effort, a quick check-in, or a call to a distant family member can carry so much meaning.
Grief changes the way you see the world. It shows you how fragile life is, and how precious every ordinary moment really is. For me, life has become less about chasing the next big thing and more about appreciating what’s already here.
And now, this fall I’m starting my senior year. In some ways, I already felt like a senior last spring, when so many of my closest friends graduated. Watching them step into adulthood has been both exciting and unsettling. Some are working 9-to-5 jobs, some are traveling, and some are back home, searching for what's next. When I see all these paths unfolding, it’s hard not to compare. I catch myself wondering where I stand, as if my worth depends on how mapped out my future is. It feels like pressure. But I know these feelings aren’t mine alone. We just don’t always say them out loud.
The truth is, this stage of life feels disorienting. Too old for some things, not quite ready for others. I’ve outgrown nights that used to feel exciting, but I’m not quite ready to experience the version of adulthood on the other side because when I step back, I wonder if I’m missing out. If I’m doing college “wrong.” If you feel caught in that same in-between space — between who you were and who you’re becoming — you’re not alone.
College often feels like a tug-of-war between loud, carefree party culture and the quiet struggles people carry privately. I’ve noticed how often we dance, laugh, and party not just for fun, but to distract ourselves from heavier things. And maybe you’ve felt it too: being in the middle of a crowd, surrounded by energy, but realizing the excitement doesn’t hit the way it used to. Not because you’re “too good” for it, but because part of you is starting to want something else. Healthier routines. More intentional living. Real connection. The shift can feel lonely, but it’s also a sign of growth.
That growth has made me think a lot about how we connect — and most of the time, that’s reflected in hookup culture. It’s everywhere in college, yet no one talks about it openly. I’ve been on different sides of it — in long relationships, doing long distance, situationships, hookups, all of it. And each time, I’ve asked myself the same questions: What do I really want? What do I really need? What do I truly deserve?
Hookup culture can feel exciting, freeing, and even empowering at times. But I’ve also noticed how it can make me feel disconnected from myself. Less honest. Less intentional. Sometimes it feels like acting rather than being real. And what’s tricky is that in college, not caring almost feels like the expectation. Stay casual. Stay detached. Don’t want too much. I’ve played into that mindset before, but deep down, I know I’m not the only one who craves more care and meaning at the end of the day.
The truth is, there’s no single “right” way to navigate this. I’ve been the person who wanted more when the other person didn’t. I’ve also been the one who couldn’t give more to someone who wanted it from me. And I’ve been somewhere in the middle, where a long-term connection just didn’t feel possible. None of it is simple, and none of it comes with clear answers.
So instead of judging myself or others, I’ve tried to give grace. People are allowed to explore, avoid, dabble, or change their minds. We’re all figuring out what we want, what we’re ready for, and that’s always shifting. The most important thing is remembering that regardless of what form of connection, whether it's hookups, situationships, or long-term relationships, everyone deserves respect, honesty, and care. Everyone deserves something genuine, in their own way. Everyone deserves to know they matter.
So, if you’re reading this, take what you need from these words and leave the rest. Just remember you’re not broken. You’re not behind. You’re not alone. We’re all figuring it out — together.
Melissa L., Florida State University
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