I don't get it

I am so sick of this. I don't understand. In all my time at uni, I have managed to make one friend, and she is quite nice, if only a little boring. Well, honestly, I actually get exhausted after talking to her because the pressure to act nice and normal and perky is a drain on me. My dear, dear high school friends, how I miss you so! Alas, back then I could say anything to those people, act as weird and freaky as I wanted to, and it was all fine and well.

And now. Now I have been reduced to this pathetically shy girl. I tell you, it's my hair. I mean it. I curse the that day at the end of June when I decided to shave my shoulder length hair off. I curse it. Not only do I have horribly short, stubby, old-grandpa hair, I have the sort of chubby, blobby, asymmetrical face that looks horrible when fully exposed through the spotlight of a few inches of hair.

But let's get to the point. I have really bad hair, which makes me feels really, really ugly, which makes me act really shy and self-conscious, which in turn influences the way people judge me. Really though, you'd be surprised at the harshness.

Examples:

So this friend that I speak of, she is lucky enough to have many of her high school pals attending the same university. As a result, there are people constantly running up to her in class and having in depth conversations with her. She does in fact have quite a lot of friends in all of our classes together, and she manages to make new ones easily. And thus, the most awkward situation imaginable takes place almost everyday. I sit beside her, while "insert other friend's name in here" sits on her other side, or maybe behind or in front of us. A flurry of conversation takes place between them, without the other friend ever batting an eyelash my way. And if they do, it's almost like a glare, as if I'm a waste of space. I am not kidding, it is not in my head. Before I used to expect that through a natural process of social acquaintances, I would also get to know those people.

Oh, I sound like I'm whining.

Anyways, I have finally given up and accepted it, even though it hurts my sensitive, yet melodramatic self-esteem. If we're walking to class with another girl that she knows, I just walk on behind and let them talk. I am letting it go. Screw them, I'm a Hemingway in disguise. The female version that is.

Grrrr. Let if go.

I will say this। I was depressed and panicked in my first year of high school, and the one thing that seemed the help me was the journal of hopelessness that I kept on my dilapidated old IBM laptop. And unfortunately, those journals were all burned down and destroyed by the confounding metal inside the laptop. So now I will start all over. I will begin another era of hopeless journal writing. I am already feeling a bit better.

A brief intro: I am a first year student and I have no friends at university। There is only one person in the entire institution that knows my name and talks to me। None of the professors know me. I am painfully, achingly self-conscious of my really short hair (I shaved my head in the summer for a fundraiser). I am all to aware that my face is completely and absolutely ugly. Repulsive actually. I tend to look like an ugly witch even after hours spent in front of the mirror. I have a pathetically chubby body, and I can never dress it properly. All of these facts make me stand out blatantly from the rest of the long-haired, fit, and well dressed girls at the uni. And because I stand out, I feel all hot itchy inside, like I can’t breathe. It is at this point that my face distorts and my eyes get all watery, and I look like I am one step away from committing suicide. Which of course makes me seem like more of a freak than ever. But who am I kidding, I was born to be a freak.

So it goes.
Kurt Vonnegut, save me.
I am lonely and depressed and utterly tired. Everyday I have to drag myself out of bed because all I want to do is bury my head under the comforters. I then proceed to waste hours in front of the mirror, getting more and more frustrated as the minutes roll on. I then stumble to uni which is the one place in the world that I happen to hate the most. All around me, there are people just having the time of their life. And poor me, walking all alone with my depressed face and watery eyes.
And the classes. God how I hate sitting in a room full of people. I force myself to sit at the front so I have a mild chance of being able to concentrate, and then I spend the rest of the class worrying that the 300+ people behind are all making snide remarks about me. It really is torture. Every class is an ordeal of epic proportions, after which ensues the ordeal of killing time until my next class. This involved me going and hiding in the library, which I also happen to detest because of the alarming amount of cheerful, loud people that reside there in groups.
When I finally manage to totter off the bus and make it to my house, I am an emotional mess. Every new day is more miserable then the last.
Maybe I’m being a bit melodramatic.
No, no really. I just want this insane torture to end.
Boo hoo.