As I walked along the grey path adjacent to Urbanovsky Park, my mind couldn’t help but remind me that I was completely unknown. It was my first semester at Texas Tech, my first week on campus. No one was vying for my time. No one was asking to meet me for dinner or what my schedule looked like. No one wanted to show me a cool coffee shop or carpool to yet another student event.

I had no obligations — which is a distant dream, right now — but I also had no connections. There wasn’t a web weaving me into campus or tying me to our community. I didn’t care if I stayed at Tech or transferred to a school closer to home. I didn’t care if I socialized or studied. I was entirely disengaged, and I didn’t know how to escape that.

After spending four years embracing my high school’s opportunities, the idea of starting that over again seemed daunting. Did I even care to?

Well, yes, of course I did. Here I am, now, engaged and enjoying my every minute at Tech. But the reason I bring all of this up is because that transition period I went through was the loneliest semester of my life. I haven’t been able to top it, thank God.

Recently, when I began researching for my next class project, I found there are numerous studies being conducted on the prevalence of loneliness in Americans.

As I had expected, I found that my semester was merely a stage of loneliness, as to be anticipated with any significant life change, like going to college, getting a divorce, moving cities, the loss of a loved one, etc.

But, I also found that there are countless people in the United States and around the world who haven’t experienced loneliness as a phase but as their unrelenting reality.

According to an article from The Atlantic, which features an interview with John Cacioppo, a psychologist at the University of Chicago, loneliness is as significant of a health threat as obesity and drug abuse.

Cacioppo explains that, in order to understand the source of this chronic loneliness, we must distinguish between “objective isolation” and “perceived isolation.”

One might choose to live alone, therefore, experiencing objective isolation. Another who lives with a family of seven, but feels ignored or alienated, experiences perceived isolation. Clinical loneliness is able to fester in the internal environment that perceived isolation creates.

When we feel actively ignored, disregarded or alienated, loneliness overwhelms us. The opportunity for connection but failure to make a connection is what emphasizes this loneliness.

I have been mulling over these statements in my head and believe that while I’m sure this is not a new phenomenon, it is more prevalent in our world of heavily mediated communication.

I’m sure you could’ve guessed, but I believe social media, texting, face-timing and so on could be heavily contributing to our culture’s epidemic of disconnection.

How can we feel known when our only source of identity is entirely fabricated? How can we feel engaged when our only means of engagement can run out of battery? How can we feel connected when our only opportunity to connect requires a Wi-Fi connection?

We are so quick to cure our temporary loneliness with a scroll through Facebook. But, what if that supposed panacea actually just scratches salt in the wound?

Perhaps, this diagnosable loneliness has always been a side effect of the human condition, but I believe we can alleviate it by reaching out to our community and seeking real, in-person, meaningful interaction with others instead of reaching for our iPhones.