Inside The University of Melbourne

A guest post from a Melbourne friend of mine whom I recently bumped into whilst travelling, we were reminiscing days back at University and despite coming from different parts of Melbourne and different backgrounds, we had a lot of similarities. Below is his post. Enjoy!

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A mate of mine recently went down a bit of a rabbit hole, stalking some of our old high school crew from back in Melbourne. I’ve never really been on social media, so I didn’t have much of a clue where most people had ended up. But I’ll admit, it was interesting. Eye-opening, even.

The overwhelming takeaway?
They all did OK.

Most of them, anyway.

From what he could piece together, the vast majority stayed in Melbourne. They’ve carved out reasonably stable lives, average jobs, a couple of nice cars floating around, weddings here and there, kids in the mix. A few have crossed that elusive median income mark, which, if you knew where they came from, would be seen as a win. These were the kids who grew up around Centrelink offices, corner milk bars that sold more ciggies than milk, and families where university wasn’t so much discouraged, it just wasn’t part of the conversation.

To see them now, doing alright, building lives, that’s something to be proud of.

Some got married early. Like, really early. Kids by 21. A few had families before they’d even had a proper go at figuring themselves out. Interestingly, those who went straight into TAFE or full-time work after Year 12 seemed to start families younger, while the university crowd generally waited a bit longer, maybe not by design, but more so a side effect of trying to hustle degrees, internships, and grad roles before thinking about nappies and school pick-ups.

But that’s not a criticism. In fact, it’s kind of fascinating how the path you take after high school shapes not just your career but your life timeline. The ones who knuckled down early: apprentices, trades, retail supervisors, they got a head start in adulting, while others were still trying to figure out their student HECS debt and how to do a proper meal prep.

There was a certain insularity that lingered with many of them, though. You can see it in the social media posts and the local check-ins. Most haven’t ventured too far beyond the radius of where they grew up. Same suburb, same mates, same rhythm. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. For a lot of people, that’s safety. That’s comfort. That’s community. But for me, there was always a quiet pull to break away from that, to see what else was out there, to rewrite the blueprint a little.

It’s worth acknowledging the reporting bias too. The ones who post the most on socials? They’re usually the ones who are doing well enough to want to show it off. The holidays to Asia, the car upgrades, the weddings with drone footage. But there were names I hadn’t heard in years, ones that didn’t show up in the digital highlight reel. A few had fallen into rough crowds, made some bad choices, got stuck in loops that are hard to break out of. No judgment, it could’ve been any of us, really. The margins are thin when you’re young, broke, and trying to find direction with no map.

And then there are the ghosts. The ones who, like me, just aren’t online. No Facebook status updates, no Instagram reels, nothing to like or react to. Not because they’re hiding, just because they’re living. Quietly. Privately. Maybe they’ve outgrown the need for that constant performance. Maybe they’ve learned that fulfilment doesn’t need an audience. I can relate to that.

Looking back, I can’t help but feel a bit of pride, not just for what I’ve done, but for all of us. For coming from a background where we were surrounded by distractions and dead-ends, and still managing to find something that resembles stability. Some of us took longer. Some got there quicker. Some are still on the journey. But in a world that often reduces success to job titles and house prices, it’s important to remember that for some people, just getting through is a win.

For me, the need to hustle was always there, part internal drive, part external pressure. I didn’t want the default path. I didn’t want to be the guy who peaked in Year 12 or never left the west. I wanted more, even when I didn’t know exactly what “more” looked like. So, I moved, I studied, I worked, I took risks. Gratefully, I’ve been fortunate enough to find some sense of purpose and direction, even if the path wasn’t always clear.

But here’s the thing: I don’t think I’m better than anyone. Just different. And in many ways, I owe a lot to those who stayed, to those who reminded me of what I left behind, and why. Their stories ground me. They remind me not to take anything for granted.

It’s also a lesson in not romanticising the past too much. Our teenage years were messy, confusing, sometimes beautiful but often brutal. A lot of us were just trying to survive in our own ways, through humour, bravado, sport, study, or silence. We didn’t have therapists or TikTok wellness advice. We had each other, skipping class and going to the local shopping centre, playing console and computer games after school and the usual joys of adolescence that come with that era.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from all of this, it’s that life’s not a race. The paths we take are as varied as the reasons behind them. Some of us sprint, some crawl, some double back and start again. And some just stay put… and that’s OK too.

So, here’s to the quiet wins.
To the ones raising families with love and patience.
To the ones holding down jobs and paying off mortgages.
To the ones who might’ve stumbled but kept getting back up.
To the ones who never made it online..but still made it somewhere.

They all did OK.
And who knows, maybe I did too?