It’s hard for people to understand suicide outside this website. I don’t really want to die, not that badly; it’s just that I see no other options. Sure, I’m probably young and immature, and I’ve thought of all the psychobabble. It’s just that after night after night of nightmare, then day after day of reliving them in the most perverted, despicable forms, I crave release–escape. Other forms of hurting myself make me worse–sad. But I need something. I live life so strongly, always taking the edge and dancing on its heaving belly, but it’s too much even for me. My father hates me and wishes that I would no longer even think depressive thoughts (so that he can feel free not to be a parent). My mother wishes that I were a lost miscarriage male named Robbie. An engineer–not a writer. My life is dissolving before my very eyes and the brilliant colours produced make me dizzy and scared, and that jagged abscess in my lungs makes it very difficult to breathe.

So…

             things to Help?