I’m 26, and lately I’ve been feeling like I’m back in college all over again — not in the fun, nostalgic way, but in the “I can’t seem to catch a break with the people around me” way.

At work, I’m dealing with an inconsiderate coworker who blasts loud music. I asked him to turn it down; he ignored me. Thankfully, my supervisor came over, saw (and heard) what was going on, and addressed it — a refreshing change from my college years, where my RA gaslighted me instead of helping when my freshman roommate constantly violated our agreement and kept me awake at night.

That roommate’s behavior — plus a possessive fiancé who essentially stalked me online — made my first year unbearable. I ended up going home every weekend just to get some quiet and sleep, and eventually because I had no real support system on campus. My mom had insisted I request an all-girls dorm because she believed it would be cleaner, quieter, and full of “nice” kids. The only thing my roommate and I had in common was that request.

Now, in my office, I’m the youngest by over a decade. I commute from Hastings to Brooklyn, which is exhausting, and I feel socially isolated. It reminds me of how, in college, finding common ground with those around me felt like pulling teeth.

I’m an introvert with NVLD, so I can’t just “befriend everyone and their mother” the way my mom — a social butterfly — believes is best. She always pushed me toward acquaintances just so I wouldn’t be alone, but I value genuine, deep connections. I’ve tried apps like Bumble BFF, events like “Five Round” dinners, and activities like language classes and volunteering. Often, I end up surrounded by retirees or people who already have their cliques.

I enjoy my own company — traveling alone, going to museums, even going to the movies — but I still long for more real friends and a life partner. Turning 27 in October scares me because despite my professional and academic accomplishments, I still feel like I’ve failed at finding “my people.”

In college, people told me, “You’ll make friends eventually. The first people you meet aren’t necessarily the ones you’ll know forever.” But the right people never came along for me there. I’m still bitter about being placed in situations during such a vulnerable time where I felt stuck and unseen.

I want to believe that “everything happens for a reason” and that even the rough patches serve a purpose. I just hope I can keep from becoming cynical and withdrawn again. I want to find that light at the end of the tunnel — and to feel, at last, that I’m surrounded by people who truly respect and understand me.