I started college in 2016, and had high hopes for a fresh start but felt like an outsider and never made any friends. I was shy, introverted, and private (still am) and the people in my immediate proximity had very different backgrounds, beliefs, personalities, and interests. I tried smiling, making eye contact, joining clubs, taking on jobs, and following my mom’s suggestions for who might be “good matches” based on proximity and convenience, but couldn’t catch a break.

My freshman year was particularly difficult because of my roommate: a devout Muslim from Pakistan with a controlling fiancé who would bombard me with messages about her whereabouts, all while she stayed up all night and insisted I adapt to her habits. She would pretend to be sweet and innocent in front of our RA while taking my things without asking after I asked her not to, falsely accusing me of saying things I didn’t, and just making my life hell. I had to go home on weekends just to escape, get sleep, and have a safe, quiet space to study. My grades, especially my first semester, suffered, and my mental health took a hit. Now I understand very well what gaslighting is; both my roommate and my aloof RA did a lot of it.

Even my mom’s good intentions sometimes backfired. On move-in day, she insisted I “say hello to my neighbor,” a girl from Alaska (I am from NY) . My mom chatted with her mother, thought that since the mom was nice, and assumed that I would inevitably become best friends with the daughter. We said hello while our mothers enthusiastically engaged in small talk, but our personalities, interests, and values didn’t align.

Later, my dad tried to cheer me up my junior year by sending me an Emery Bergmanm video just before I went to Spain for a semester abroad—a reminder of how social opportunities can differ by context. Emery was a year below me and attended a much larger school and could join a sorority, giving her a built-in path to connect with others. Meanwhile, I felt like a pariah in a small, rural college setting and resigned myself that it was too late for me to find people who genuinely liked and accepted me on campus.

I would have loved to attend university in the UK or Spain, as many of my international school classmates did, but my helicopter mom forbade me, thinking I was “too immature” and needed to stay in New York. This created a hyperdependence, reinforced by her insistence on the all-girls dorm and her constant reminders that she “was right” because of the unhealthy roommate situation although she was the one who forced me to pick in all girls dorm which was the only thing I had in common with this roommate.

I also vented online on College Confidential in 2018 and 2019. I posted about feeling hopeless, isolated, and misunderstood despite feeling like I tried my best although in hindsight I was avoidant and cared too much what others thought as well as put pressure on myself that every social interaction had to lead to a friendship. Many posters accused me of not trying hard enough, not realizing that I had worked, volunteered, and participated in events but didn’t meet anyone I clicked with. It hurt deeply when people assumed I was the problem or that I didn’t give others a chance although no one ever gave me a chance. I was just 19, frustrated, cynical, rejected by my peers, and lonely, and the forums were my outlet and I hoped a safe space to vent.

Even before college, I had experienced the sting of unkind peers. During my first year at the my international school (11th grade), I had settled for a group of mean girls who pressured me to do things I didn’t want, like dancing provocatively, trying to kiss someone who rejected me, or being filmed while humiliated. They’d threaten me with not being their friend if I didn’t comply Luckily, I eventually moved away from that group and found kinder peers there. In college, I was not as lucky despite everyone insisting I’d inevitably find “my people” no matter how shy and socially awkward I am.

In 2025, I was diagnosed with Nonverbal Learning Disorder (NVLD), after years of being misdiagnosed with autism, ADHD, and other conditions. Posting about it on Instagram recently, I was surprised at the response—likes and comments from former classmates, international school peers, and grad school friends in DC. Many quietly acknowledged that they had seen me struggle and felt solidarity. It was a bittersweet validation, and it made me realize how long I had lived misunderstood. If only I had known this 10–15 years earlier—my teen and especially college years might have been marked by fewer misunderstandings, less loneliness, and an easier time finding like-minded people.

Pandemic setbacks also meant that, just 2 months before graduating, I lost two years of potential social and professional growth, which added to the sense of lost time. I still long for a circle of lifelong, very close girlfriends—the types of deep, meaningful female friendships that often form in the teens and early twenties. I want genuinely kind, supportive friends, but they’re hard to find. I worry that being inexperienced in close friendships or neurodivergent might make it harder for others to connect with me.

Today, I’m slowly learning to break old patterns. I’ve been reflecting on how I can be proactive and vulnerable rather than resigning myself to avoidance or isolation like I did in college by assuming nothing I did would make people accept me. I’m also trying not to be needy or expect that every social interaction must turn into a lasting friendship—a mindset that often sabotaged me in college.

This week, I attended an event in Brooklyn and met two alumni from the same undergrad as me who graduated in 2015. They were nice and welcoming unlike my hellish roommate, standoffish dorm neighbor, and RA, who peaked in college as she was popular and outgoing but is now in jail abroad. I hope this means that the more I put myself out there despite how disappointing it’s been over the last decade, the more likely I am to succeed in finding people I genuinely click with. I also signed up for a book club next Tuesday, an alumni mixer for my grad school that Thursday, and the person I met told me about an alumni mixer on the 18th which I said I’m interested in attending.

I’m not 27 yet, but I’m learning that growth doesn’t come from rewriting the past—it comes from creating the life I want today. I may have been misunderstood, judged, and isolated in the past, but I don’t have to repeat those patterns. I can choose authenticity, vulnerability, and intentionality—and that feels like progress even if my mom loves to complain that “change is hard for me” although I am genuinely trying despite all the emotional scars I have from having to cross paths with people who caused me unnecessary strife and hardship when I needed compassion, kindness, and empathy.