During my sophomore year of college, I decided to take an evening stroll around my campus after an intense gym session. As I left the gym, I noticed a book sitting, unattended, near a tree. Asking for me to pick it up and take it with me. The “right” thing to do would have probably been to take it back to the library but it just didn’t feel right. As the day’s past, this book sat on my coffee table in my apartment, still untouched. The title of this book was Uncertainty. To this day this book sits on my shelf, unread and undiscovered but its presence taught me something entirely different. Understanding the value of lasting things in uncertain times.

Finding friends was never difficult for me, but learning to build trust within those friendships often was. I’ve noticed that some people thrive in large groups, where the connections are lighter but plentiful, while others prefer smaller circles built on deeper bonds. I’ve always wrestled with that balance. Should I embrace the safety of belonging to a big friend group, even if the trust beneath it feels fragile? Or should I risk being seen as an outlier in order to nurture the kind of close, reliable friendships I truly value? That tension between connection and authenticity is where uncertainty tends to fester for me.

College was an experience which made those thoughts more prevalent. Finding friends and creating relationships is a difficult process which many people find hard. However, being an extrovert in college helped me form a wide, diverse circle of acquaintances. Yet even then, I often found myself drawn to a few individuals who offered something deeper – friendships where trust and understanding felt natural. Over time, I began to realize that the size of a friend group does not determine its strength. Instead, it is the quality of the bonds we build that matters most, and the ones that endure through uncertainty are the ones worth keeping.

In many ways, that book sitting silently on my shelf became a reminder of this. I never opened it, yet its presence was enough to reflect the questions I was living through. Just as the book remained unread but still meaningful, some friendships in my life existed on the surface without ever reaching depth. Others, though fewer in number, became lasting connections that gave me stability when things felt uncertain. The book didn’t teach me through its words but through its symbolism.

Another layer of this journey was discovering the comfort of friendships with people who shared my traits and cultural background. There’s a kind of unspoken understanding in those relationships, fewer explanations are needed, and belonging feels easier. In many ways, they became an anchor for me in moments when the college environment felt overwhelming or unfamiliar. At the same time, I realized that surrounding myself with people who mirrored my identity could limit the growth and perspective that comes from difference. Striking that balance between cultural identity and connection became a rope that I learned how to balance on.

Looking back, I see that uncertainty has never really left me, it has simply shifted into different forms. What I’ve learned is that uncertainty isn’t always something to resolve. Sometimes, like the book on my shelf, it simply has to be lived with. And in that space of not fully knowing, the friendships that last prove themselves as the things most worth holding on to.