The best thing I’ve ever done is surround myself with people who love to dance. 

My freshman year friends have never said “no” to a karaoke song. They always dutifully sway along to my off-key rendition of The Cranberries’ “Linger” and will twirl and skip and frolic at the drop of a hat. I will sometimes start singing softly and no matter what — whether it be on a trek down Sheridan Road or in the lobby of Main Library — someone will always join in. 

We love each other loudly. We jump up and down whenever we see each other, whether it’s the first time in a month or the fifth time in a day. My friends not only go along with my odd ideas, but are active participants.

When I told my friends I wanted to have a Marriage Pact party, where we invited all of our matches from the site that tells you who your most compatible person on this campus is, they didn’t look at me like I was crazy. Instead, Josie looked up all of their numbers in Northwestern’s student directory and Esha helped me draft a parody of a frat text inviting them all to my dorm. 

When I told them about the Fizz propaganda I posted about my obsession with the all-male a cappella group Asterik, Iliana hired them to serenade me for my birthday. 

When I discovered that the rapper Thirteendegrees was coming to NU to perform at a frat house, Maddy and I decided to pretend to be superfans and taped a “1” on her shirt and a “3” on mine. We then convinced someone that we had a friend wearing “2,” and sent him off to search for this nonexistent member of our trio. 

For my birthday, my friends Ella and Andrew wrote and performed an eight minute long original musical inspired by my life. It is the best gift I have ever received. 

I feel blessed every day to be loved, not in a superficial way, but deeply enough that I feel like my full self when I’m with them. My friends inspire me to be a better person.

My whole life, I was quiet. When I performed in a middle school production of “Pitch Perfect,” I was cast as the one girl whose entire personality is her soft voice, and I think that pretty much summed it up. My teachers would tell me to speak up at least twice a day and no one really knew anything about me, aside from the fact that I was “smart.”  

In high school, I lived in a constant state of fear of embarrassment. Everything felt mortifying — each awkward hallway interaction and time my stomach rumbled in a silent classroom felt like a bullet. 

I was constantly trying to prove to myself that I was special in some way, that I felt out of place because I was smarter or more perceptive than everyone else around me. It wasn’t because I fundamentally didn’t belong, but because I could never get over the constant insecurity that engulfed me. 

Coming to NU was like tasting freedom. I was reborn into the most outgoing version of myself because I was surrounded by people who felt like me. 

I now go out of my way to embarrass myself. Sometimes I will purposefully post slightly bad photos of myself on my Instagram in a pursuit I call exposure therapy. On Dillo Day, Esha and I went up to every random tall skinny blonde man we saw and asked if they were Malcolm Todd. 

My friend Cami and I recently signed up for a cup pong tournament, where we dressed in matching outfits and battle paint, and loudly cheered and performed our secret handshake whenever we scored a point. 

Life is so freeing when you allow yourself to be a little bit weird. I spent so much time regretting the things I didn’t do, but what a privilege it is to regret the things I did. 

I am absolutely heartbroken that freshman year is coming to an end. I don’t know what I am going to do without the late night conversations with my roommate, which always start with a “Wait, one more thing!” and spiral out into hours of chatter and laughter. I’m already feeling deprived of dropping first and last names in the dining hall. I’m sad that my days of petty theft from frat houses and cramming 50 people into my dorm are almost over.   

But I am endlessly grateful to have found people who feel like home. I now live a life full of joy and whimsy and am never going back. Perhaps we can walk it back next year.

Ivy Frater is a Medill freshman and author of “Joke Walk.” She can be contacted at [email protected]. If you would like to respond publicly to this op-ed, send a Letter to the Editor to [email protected]. The views expressed in this piece do not necessarily reflect the views of all staff members of The Daily Northwestern.