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*summary*

I have no money and all sorts of bills, no job, barely any food, I'm not in school, I don't know what to do with myself, my mom died, savings is all gone, and if it weren't for my dad helping me out I'd be homeless on the street. The only one who helps me to keep my sanity is Tiny, my dog.

Not only that, but my body is acting weird and so is my hair, and I hate myself for even showing the slightest bit of concern for my looks when there are more important things.

*end summary*

For some reason nothing seems to go well for me. I know if I could just get money my problems would be solved.

I hate the student health centre here. I really, really do.

I never see the same doctor twice in a row, for one. And when you're dealing with chronic respiratory issues plus chronic headaches, that's just a pain in the a**, because you have to keep explaining things OVER. AND. OVER. AGAIN.

The last doctor I saw was AWESOME. She was very upbeat, friendly, and listened to me. So of course, I'll probably never see her again.

I went in today, to talk about how I haven't slept a full night in months and finally figured out that's not normal after moving out on my own, and how I'm worried that Aleve is losing its effectiveness on my headaches and concerned about the possibility of long-term liver damage from lifelong use of NSAIDs, and wanted to discuss alternatives.

He ignored everything I said about my headaches. Literally, ignored it. And zoomed in on my sleeping habits. Then he started asking questions about my diet, which is okay, I expected it.

I told him I'm a vegetarian, have been since I was little, and my meals as a general rule of thumb are one part grain, one part legume, and one to two parts veg, that it's pretty low-fat save for small amounts of olive oil, sometimes butter on toast, and some seeds. Told him I rarely eat chocolate or sweets in general, and that the only caffeine I consume is trace amounts in decaffeinated tea, and never after seven pm, when I switch to rooibos and herbal tisanes.

He asked about my exercise habits. Now, the last doctor I went to, and the one before her, and the one before her, all gave me pointers on building up to being able to run a mile without my lungs collapsing or something and gave me the okay for these programs (I'm on week 3).

I can now jog a mile, albiet slowly and never without my inhaler in my pocket, and I stop and rest immediately if there's anything resembling a twinge in my lungs.

He didn't believe me. He said to my face he didn't. He said, "You need to be honest with me. If that were all true, then your weight would have gone down." TO MY FACE.

Because he KNOWS there's no way a fat girl is HONEST when she says she eats healthy and exercises, after all.

*rage*

On the plus side, I'm not really behind in my Spanish class, which I was worried about due to testing into it and skipping 101.

NOTE: I understand it's really long and rambley. I had to get it off my chest; you don't have to trouble yourself with reading it. I understand that in comparison, my problems are puny and I'm just being over-dramatic. I would post this on my online journal, but then I'd get comments from my friends trying to coerce me into transferring schools, and I've had enough of that.

The Roommate Gods hate me. They haaaaaaaaate me.
Don't get me wrong: last year, I had a fabulous roommate. She and I got along perfectly well. We chitchatted at times, watched tv shows together, had a silent understanding of private times. She would fall asleep with lights on and even with noises all around, which left me free to do whatever I wanted (or had to, like writing essays...). She was also an athlete, so she wasn't around all the time like I was. It was just perfect. But then Spring came around, and apparently I waited to long to ask if she wanted to room together again (safest option is always the one you know, right?). She had decided to room with three of her teammates.
Which left me grasping for straws since the one good friend I had... I really couldn't see myself rooming with. That ended up being a moot point since she decided to transfer to a new school for this year.

So I mustered up all the courage I have (I'm really a very, very shy person. I hate putting myself out there on a limb, and I'm terrified of rejection) to ask a close classmate of mine. We get along fairly well; we had a bunch of classes together, worked together a lot, had a study group with some other girls that I organized, and even had the occasional rushed lunch between classes together. She says yes. I'm so excited and relieved. We dream of the nice places we could live with our bajillions of credits combined. Five hours later, she sends tells me *on facebook* that she has said yes to someone else that asked her last week that she put off. This someone else is in her sorority, so automatically a better choice than I am. I beg for a triple. She refuses triples because she doesn't want a third wheel. I try to think of someone to be a 4th so we can have a quad, but oh, right, I have no friends anymore.

Cue depression. Some emo online journal posts. Hiding in the laundry room, under my blanket, sobbing to my mom on the phone. She e-mails my college app counselor who forwards the message to the housing coordinator who suggests alternatives for finding roommates.

I join the Searching for a Roommate facebook group. Post an "ad," get no response, message some other random girl in the group who seems to be a good match. We hit it off online, meet in person, hit it off even better. Bliss! A new friend! No more friendlessness!

She's on academic probation. Has to beg to allowed to return to school. Asks if she can live with me during the summer, five hours' drive away from her home, to job search. My parents say no, we've got too much going on this summer and no place to put her. I don't hear from her the rest of the summer, except a few short messages, one saying we got the room we signed for, the room she really wanted and I'm okay with. A few days ago, I get a message from her saying she can't get a student loan.

If she can't get a student loan, she's not coming back to school. If she doesn't come back to school, I'll be living alone in a double, in a freshman hall, sandwiched between two drunken/smelly/loud fraternities, doomed to friendlessness once again.

Cue not only depression, but extreme anxiety. I'm petrified. I'm sobbing in the middle of the night--my brain won't shut off and let me sleep. I will do anything not to go back to school friendless. ANYTHING. But there's nothing I can do.

For a bit more context, anxiety is also in part due to a bunch of new responsibilities that have been dropped onto my shoulders. I'm the president of a club I went to TWO meetings for last year because no one else would take the job. I'm an officer in the mentorship program for incoming Latino students when I'm as white as a girl can get... I have no idea what I'm doing in either case, and I'm terrified of screwing it all up.
I'm an authority figure. Authority figures don't get friends.
Also, I'll be applying to spend a year studying abroad. Remember that fear of rejection? Yeah. That's in play here, too.
And if I don't have a friend physically there to help see me through this?
I can already feel myself crumbling...

If it makes you feel any better, I had no friends in college, either. sweatdrop

I suppose this is my rant about how much college sucked.

I made friends freshman year, and then lost them all after I tried to kill myself in a bathroom and then my friend dragged me to my bedroom and tried to ******** me while I was bleeding all over the blankets. He spread some lies to my friends so no one talked to me except one person.

That person ended up raping me my first semester of sophomore year, and then I had to transfer schools because the administration was so ******** retarded it refused to move me out of my dorm even though my rapist lived in the same one.

At my new school, I was a transfer and made some good friends with these girls. They invited me to live with them and I was excited, up until they mistook a note I wrote to mean I was committing suicide, and summoned the RAs on my a**. I moved all my stuff out of my dorm room and down the street to the emergency single in one night with no help because I had no other friends. That was junior year.

Senior year, I gave up on making friends and just gave into my eating disorder. There would be days when the only person I talked to would be the woman at Dunkin Donuts who took my order.

Thankfully I got a boyfriend (long-distance) who came to visit me every other week.

I graduated from college, despite being committed to a psychiatric hospital four times. And now I've moved out of Boston.

I'm supposed to move in with my boyfriend in Chicago in two weeks, and I'm scared it'll suck and I won't make any friends. And if I don't, I really have no reason to live anymore. So this is my one last chance to be happy and I hope it works.

I am so, so sorry for both of your college experiences, turbid blue and Navya. College really can be lonely - the same way in which it is freeing is the way in which it is isolating, namely that you have no need to be with the same people day in and day out. I was lucky, I guess; I made a couple of friends in college (haven't stayed in touch, though, which is fine in one case, since she turned out to be the kind of person who thrived on putting her friends down), but more importantly, I had several friends from my high school or hometown there with me. Most of them weren't my bigtime buddies when we were actually in high school together, and some were not my friends before college at ALL, but we became close through living together or what have you. It was nice because the hard work, the actual getting-to-know-you part, had already been done in the pressure cooker environment of high school, where you really don't have a choice - particularly in my high school, which was a "mini" school with one class per grade, so you're with the same 28 people for most of the entire time. And then in college we got the opportunity to get to know each other better, and outside of the shitty, pressurey environment that high school was.

In fact, I guess I could do the rant thing about my high school years, but it isn't a patch on the horrors you two have lived through, and anyway it's been nearly 10 years since I graduated, so why drag that lake?

If I was going to do a rant thing right now, it would be about my job, and how daring to take 2 days off to move (p.s., my legs look like I fell down a flight of stairs, thanks, BOXES) has officially screwed me for the rest of the week, because the guy covering for me, my direct superior and the guy who used to do my job, did HALF the work. The other half he just opted not to do. And the half he did do? He did it wrong. So I've got to redo all of it, while still doing each day's new stuff. And then today my friend has me do this huge project for her, and I like her and she's not being malicious, but not only did it a) take up all of my time, b) take up the printer for 2 hours, during which time nobody else could use it either, let alone me for any of my own work, but also c) made ME the a*****e who was taking over the printer. Goddammit.

That's not on the order of permanent life scars, but it is bugging me right now. I hope it doesn't sound like I'm diminishing your troubles down to the level of office bullshit, because that's the last thing I want to do.

i hate walking home alone from my friend's apartment.
why?
it's not the neighborhood, but it's the fact that at every freakin' block i have to deal with cat-calls. i mean really?! who still does that?!
i get invites to parties from guys i've never met in my life, i have elderly "gentlemen" try to pick me up and the first thing that comes out of their mouths is "how old you are miss?" and i promptly say "not old enough sir."
i've even had guys bark at me. who barks at people!!!??? besides dogs of course~

*end rant*