It sounds like such a simple question. Yet if you asked every incoming freshman during their first few weeks at Harvard, I think nearly all of us would have wondered the same thing.

We arrive carrying excitement, curiosity, and fears. We walk through Harvard Yard surrounded by thousands of students, yet somehow convince ourselves that everyone else has already found "their people." Let me reassure you. They haven't. Most people are asking the exact same question you are. But perhaps we're asking the wrong question. Instead of asking, "Where are friends?" maybe we should ask, "How do friendships grow?" Because friends are rarely found. They are built. And like anything worth building, they take time. When I first arrived at Harvard, I thought friendship would happen naturally. I imagined that somewhere on campus there was a group of people waiting to become my closest friends. I simply had to find them. Months later, I realized friendship doesn't work that way. Many of us imagine friendship as something that appears fully formed, almost like buying a beautifully furnished apartment. Everything is already in place. Comfortable. Perfect. Ready to live in. Real friendship isn't like that. Friends do not come as complete packages. They are not furniture. They are people. People are beautifully imperfect. Every person you meet is carrying victories you cannot see and battles you cannot imagine. Some are healing. Some are learning. Some are becoming more patient.

Some are learning how to trust. Some are still figuring themselves out. Including you. The moment we expect perfection from our friends is the moment we begin collecting disappointments instead of relationships. Friendship isn't about finding perfect people. It's about learning to love imperfect people while allowing them to love an imperfect you. That realization changed the way I approached relationships at Harvard. Instead of searching for people who fit perfectly into my life, I became curious about people whose stories were different from mine. And Harvard is full of those stories. One of the greatest gifts this university has given me is realizing that friendship has no age requirement. Some of the most meaningful conversations I've had have not always been with students my own age. I've learned from seniors who patiently answered questions I didn't even know how to ask. I've laughed with first-years I had just met. I've been encouraged by professors. I've received wisdom from House tutors. I've found kindness from dining hall staff who greet students every single day. I've shared conversations with alumni whose Harvard experience ended decades before mine began.

 Some of these people would probably never describe themselves as my "friends." Yet each of them has helped shape my Harvard experience. Friendship doesn't ask for your birth certificate. It doesn't care whether you're seventeen or sixty. It doesn't ask what country you come from. It doesn't ask how much money your family has. It doesn't ask what language you speak at home. Real friendship is interested in something much deeper: Who are you becoming? That is why I also think one of the easiest mistakes to make in college is believing you need one perfect friend group. You don't. Please don't limit yourself to one circle. People often talk about finding your people, but I've discovered something different. Sometimes your people are scattered all across campus. Maybe you have one friend who loves discussing politics over dinner. Another who drags you to basketball games. Someone else who reminds you to call home. Another who studies with you until midnight.

A mentor who challenges your thinking. A professor who believes in your potential. A House tutor who checks in after a difficult week. Each relationship serves a different purpose. None of these people replace one another. Together, they become your community. And communities are often stronger than cliques because they expose us to different ways of thinking, living, and growing. If I could recommend one quality that has helped me build those relationships, it would be humility. More than confidence. More than charisma. More than intelligence. Humility. Humility allows us to enter conversations believing we still have something to learn. It allows us to ask questions instead of pretending we know everything. It allows us to change our minds. It allows us to admit when we're wrong. Most importantly, humility reminds us that every person we meet knows something we don't. Harvard gathers people from every corner of the world. Different cultures. Different religions. Different political beliefs. Different childhoods. Different dreams. If we only spend time with people who think exactly like we do, we miss one of the greatest gifts this university offers. Growth often begins at the edge of our comfort zones. Some of the conversations that have changed me the most happened with people whose experiences looked nothing like mine. You don't have to agree with everyone. But you can always learn from them. And sometimes learning from someone becomes the beginning of friendship. So... Where are friends at? They're sitting beside you in lecture. Standing next to you in the dining hall line. Waiting outside the section. Working beside you during a student organization meeting. Sitting quietly in Lamont. Living across the hallway. Helping clean your House. Leading your discussion section. Serving your lunch.

Teaching your class. Walking through Harvard Yard wondering the exact same thing you are. Friendship isn't hidden somewhere on campus. It's hidden inside ordinary moments that become extraordinary because someone decided to smile. To ask a question. To invite someone to lunch. To stay after class. To introduce themselves. To say, "Hi." Maybe that's the secret. Friendship isn't something we wait to receive. It's something we choose to create. One conversation. One meal. One act of kindness. One moment of curiosity. One shared laugh. At a time. So if you're wondering where your friends are, look around. Some of them are still strangers today. But if you're willing to take the first step, they may become some of the most important people in your Harvard story.