Campus Benches Ranked by Cry-Ability

In Autumn, campus becomes a living Hallmark postcard. But this is Chicago, so the postcard might also include humid rain, a sudden 85 degree heatwave or the first snow mid-season. It’s also when the collective campus mental state takes a nosedive.

Midterms creep in, group projects combust, breakups abound, friendships dissipate and every syllabus feels like it was written as a psychological experiment. In such times, crying ensues, and benches must take the fall for a pseudoprivate place to sob one’s heart out. They’re no longer simple structures for sitting — benches become emotional battlegrounds, confessionals and comfort zones of the season.

But not every bench is fully prepared for a Loyola student breakdown. Some cradle sorrow with a checkered blanket fresh from the dryer. Others expose it under lamp lights, turning every tear drop into a spectacle. 

Ranked below are the campus benches most suited for midterm meltdowns, heart break dramatics and the occasional seasonal existential crisis. 

The Cul-De-Sac Behind Mundelein Center 

Hidden behind the Mundelein Center like a secret garden only grief knows, this cul-de-sac feels designed for one thing — quiet collapses. 

The benches form a loose circle in a way that might invite group therapy if anyone else ever came back there. Instead, it’s usually empty, making it less of a meeting space and more of a sobbing circle one. Concrete and rocks surround the area focused entirely on the business of crying. 

At night, ground lights embedded in the pavement flicker on. They don’t shine brightly, but enough to make the whole area glow with a dim, melancholy glamour. It’s the crying equivalent of mood lighting — fairy lights designed for despair. Tears look cinematic. Every sniffle is playing its part in an art house film no one asked to watch. Midterms may crush spirits, but they do so in the glow of tasteful uplighting.

There’s no lake, no garden and no passing traffic — just isolation and ambiance. That’s what creates the charm of the cul-de-sac behind Mundelein and makes the best crying spot — it isn’t trying to be anything else. In fact, the only people its trying to impress are those who want to vanish from campus chaos. 

Piper Hall Back Door Benches and Stairs 

Behind Piper Hall, benches lean toward the lake in the kind of picturesque scene, making sadness feel like a ballad play. 

The trees form a leafy curtain, shielding the sitter from casual onlookers. It’s private enough to sob without interruption, but public enough for the world to feel within reach. The lake stretches forward like an infinity mirror for misery, carrying deep secrets out across the ripples. 

Piper Hall is the kind of place where a single tear can feel like the opening shot of an indie film scored entirely by a Bon Iver song.

Autumn adds an extra flair to the already soundtrackable setting. The leaves tumble like a contemplative confetti, spiraling into the water with dramatic precision. The air smells faintly like damp earth and impending deadlines. 

Though it’s beautiful, it’s not foolproof. Joggers may pass by occasionally and dogs may turn their snouts up judgmentally. However, compared to most benches on campus, Piper’s back door feels merciful. It’s a place where grief can be grand without being gawky.

Dumbach Globe Benches 

Six benches orbit the metal globe sculpture outside Dumbach Hall. The arrangement is a stage set, the globe a backdrop where sorrow enters as a player in tragedy, delivering soliloquies to distracted students.

This sob spot may be perfect for those with a flair for theatrics. With a book in hand, tears can pass for deep academic reflection — but the disguise only works if props are involved. 

Without a book or laptop, the facade falls. Students stream out of Dumbach, their gazes magnetized to the sculpture, and by extension, to whoever is crying beside it. If one is interested in being a part of an experimental performance art piece, this is the spot to park and bark cries. 

This spot is ideal for low-grade stress of midterms, the kind where tears simply blur notes rather than choking out in gasps. The globe isn’t built for private ugly crying. The Dumbach benches are for sadness needing plausible deniability — the tears aren’t sentimental, but rather emotional poetry homework. 

Cuneo Hall Entrance Benches 

At the bottom of the list sits the Cuneo benches, stationed directly in front of the doors. On paper, they look appealing — a clean view of flowers, a spiritual stare at the Madonna Della Strada Chapel and sunlight filtering across the path gives a sense of openness. 

In reality, they are crying’s cruelest trap.

Every tear shed at the Cuneo benches happens in the spotlight. Professors march past, classmates awkwardly shuffle by and tour groups full of prospective students stroll through, silently cataloging the campus and its amenities — including the public displays of despair. It’s the emotional equivalence of trying to have a private conversation on a microphone. 

The flowers next to the cathedral make the view worse. Their relentless bloom feels mocking, a cheerful backdrop to human collapse. Crying on the Cueno benches isn’t cathartic, but rather a full-fledged performance. Unless the goal is to make a grand public statement —  “Yes, I have three exams and have just been broken up with, and I want the world to know” — these benches are better left to flower enthusiasts. 

Benches may seem like passive furniture, but in the fall they become emotional infrastructure. They’re true co-counselors of campus life, bearing witness to every sniffle, sob and victory. Some offer privacy, some provide ambiance while some just sit there — daring anyone to fall apart in full view of the world.