"A practical man can always make what he wants to do look like a noble sacrifice of personal inclinations to the welfare of the community. I've decided that I've got to be practical myself, and that's one of the rules. How about breakfast?" The Pirates of Ersatz, Murray Leinster
From your question I noticed a few things. Nominally, I completely agree with @mxyzplk's answer, so this should be in the way of an addendum.
It sucks to be the leader
In a RPG, it just completely sucks to be the leader. Most players when confronted with a plan, remember about fifteen percent of it for the first fifteen minutes. But they'll certainly remember when you deviate. Leaders get no additional responsibility and no perquisites, but they get all the blame.
In the military this is mitigated with the clear distinction between commissioned and non-commissioned officers. Not least because the isolation provides both support structures and necessary emotional distance (to a degree, of course). Being "elected" leader, especially with the pack dynamics of typical werewolf games is an extremely dubious honour that I'd flatly reject.
The fact that while you may be leader in character but not dominant over the player group makes things even stickier. You need to assert authority within the realm of the narrative without actually having that authority in reality. Again, something that will cause friction and resentment any way you cut it.
Depressing environments bleed emotions into play
The world of darkness does what it says on the tin. Having played in a horror game myself recently, the iconic themes of the world of darkness do not make for "happy" or, for that matter, validating game experiences in the main. (And, if they do, it's a violation of genre.) When you are faced with the stresses of being "leader" which are compounded by the stressors of the philosophies baked into the setting, no wonder you're having a rough time.
Some solutions:
On leadership:
Fundamentally, a gaming group is a relationship. Bad relationships that do not provide validation are a drain on mental and emotional resources. When they don't work, cut them off or change them. In your case, I'd play a game that's a bit lighter in tone and focus: a nice traditional dungeon crawl or similar heroic fantasy.
I'd also reject the leader role for all the reasons I outlined above. Or, if they force it upon you, demand the perquisites and authority that is concomitant with it: they can't have it both ways.
On the group:
I've found that group character creation creates a far more cohesive group. By having entangled backstories, the group can draw upon a deeper understanding of each others' characters, creating the basis for empathy and respect within the characters, instead of the necessary simulacrum imposed by players.
By articulating desired tropes, a "palette" (as Microscope) calls it, before the game begins, you'll be able to shape the narrative of the group in directions that you want to play. This allows you to avoid the nominally depressive tropes that come default with the setting (not limited to world of darkness) and describe a source for future characters to connect with the current group. Replacement characters, if they tie into the shared narrative, will continue to maintain the tropes and social trust.
Be practical:
As players, we shape our narratives to an amazing degree. Emulate Bron Hoddan in the Pirates of Ersatz. While playing, you will be aware of the desired practical outcome that will provide validation and satisfy your personal goals. With that outcome in mind, you then frame it in terms that suit both your character's narrative and the expected narratives of the other players such that they will act to reinforce your framing and thereby your outcome. If you fight their narrative control by "being a loner," it is difficult to achieve your own goals. If you help them work as a team and appear to sacrifice nobly on their behalf while executing your own goals... the entire process is smoother and more effective.
Note that I am not saying to lie. Instead, consider the causal constructions of your actions, the explanations for those actions to be an aspect of the role * separate* from the actions themselves. By manipulating the framing as well as the actions, you can provide the necessary hooks for the other players to support your version of reality, rather than rejecting it and, by extension, you.
Postscript
Looking at your comments to other questions, you should absolutely give this group two last tries. In the first trial (of one or two games), try a heroic romp where you can be "Big Damn Heroes." Require the players who need the spotlight be leader. In the second trial (again of one or two games), try a game where players can intrigue against each other (I'd recommend Ars Magica, but then again I recommend it for most things. Most games support PvP intrigue quite ably.) If neither game provides the validation you need and the spotlight the other players need, move on. Before you do anything, take a month break, sit down, relax, and try to game with some strangers. I'm pretty sure that if you go looking for games in the chat section of this site... someone will oblige. For more on the framing problem, I'd quite recommend Rule 34 by Stross, as it describes it in a delicious narrative context.
Having such numerical rules of thumb are both design decisions and design guidelines
There is no “correct” ratio of monster damage to player damage or player HP to player damage, but these kinds of ratios are well worth thinking about. They influence balance, but also influence the play and feel of your game. If HP is about 4× damage, you expect people to take four hits (or last four rounds, or whatever period you’re aggregating damage over). Deciding what ratios you want (which ratios will generate the feel you’re going for and encourage the types of play you’re expecting) is a big part of the design process, and it is, of course, very complicated.
There’s also probably not just one ratio you want for any given pair of numbers. Tough characters are supposed to last longer, so perhaps their HP:expected-damage ratio is higher. Nimble characters are expected to deal high damage but be fragile. So on and so forth. So you really need different notions of what these ratios are supposed to be for the different sorts of characters you want to support. You can make this very math-y and codified (e.g. D&D 4e) or very vague and flexible (e.g. almost any point-buy system you care to name).
And then there are issues of system-mastery: how much do you want to reward people for thinking carefully about their character’s mechanical components? How much do you want to punish people for failing to do so? Are certain archetypes going to be possible, but bad ideas? Is that a good thing, or something you want to either build real support for or prevent? If you allow them, are you going to warn players about them explicitly?
This isn’t even all of the numerical thoughts a game-designer needs to have, without even getting into the other crucial aspects of the design (setting and tone and description and art and so on and so forth).
Theory-crafting can help
Designing a balanced game requires, more than anything else, a lot of time spent fiddling with it. Theory-crafting is faster than play, so on some level you get more fiddling per unit time. This can be useful: look at your current ruleset, and try to determine the maximum possible values someone can get for various statistics. You’ll have to try going at this a lot of different ways, however; optimums are often found in surprising locations, and you can never be certain you have found one.
Having an interested community helps massively here. More minds, more eyes, more original ideas and approaches.
But it cannot replace play-testing
When theory-crafting finds game-breaking exploits, they’re worth fixing. Sometimes the builds that yield them aren’t even powerful in practice; it’s just about maintaining those design decisions you made (e.g. those ratios) and keeping the environment stable (if something achieves an anomalously-large value for some number, and you ignore it because that number isn’t very important, you now had better remember that it can get anomalously-large before you add a new thing that depends on that number!)
But theory-crafting cannot and will not catch everything that is actually a problem. Having overly-high numbers might make things too easy, but the players having abilities that you didn’t expect to see at all is often much more troublesome. If a player figures out a clever way to fly when they’re not supposed to, that might invalidate whole sections of your plan.
And flying is an easy example. The real danger are things you didn’t even think of, that never seemed relevant or important, until some clever player breaks everything. This is what play-testing uncovers.
Again, an active and involved community helps a ton here; each group may only play it once (or maybe a couple of times), but if you have many groups, that’s many tests. Especially, say, if one person can run it for multiple groups, letting each group try different tricks.
Especially if this is actually a matter of testing, and these are explicitly (volunteer or paid) testers, it is worthwhile to encourage destructive testing. This means that the testers are trying their hardest to break things; they are stressing the system, maybe trying out some of those theory-crafted builds that you found to be just within the bounds of acceptable, maybe just trying oddball things. Even abusing foreknowledge of the events of the game, for repeat players: if someone could plan for those events and be over-prepared for those specific events, someone might accidentally stumble upon the same preparations. Plus it's just good to get a gauge for what is the easiest someone could get through here?
Testing the opposite side is useful too: if someone made some truly hare-brained decisions, can they still enjoy this game? Try throwing some intentionally “awful” characters through: how much do they suffer for those poor decisions? Is that level of penalty for bad decisions appropriate to your design goals?
Best Answer
To add on to @mxyzplk's answer (particularly part 2):
Be Descriptive
You have to remember that (depending on the group/player, of course) a lot of what brings a character's personality out is their dialogue; if your character is shy and you're focusing on the 'quiet-shy' angle of that, you need to make sure that you're bringing out a similar amount of personality through descriptions of your actions instead.
A shy character isn't a blank mask standing alongside the party and is still going to have reactions to things going on around them, even if it isn't spoken aloud in character- describing how your character physically/emotionally reacts is going to be key to still feeling like you're present at a scene (both to yourself and to the other players/the GM) and letting everyone else continue to interact with you.
Basically, make sure the shyness stays as part of the character, and don't let it extend to yourself at the table.
Another important point to remember is that 'shy' is different from 'mute'; There are still going to be times when you have to/are motivated enough to talk to someone. Remember to keep your character's shy personality in mind even in these situations, when appropriate. As a few examples, though hardly the only way(s) it could be approached:
Also worth noting is to make sure that the shyness doesn't overextend itself into parts of your character that it shouldn't apply to- if they're only shy, and not just generally nervous/anxious about things, it shouldn't come through nearly as much in a non-social situation. A shy character can still be bold and take action.