I am often asked by folks who don't understand depression, "Why are you depressed?" The reasons are multifaceted, too multifaceted for a face to face conversation that is anything under a days length. The question itself betrays how shallow the reads are of those who move through life blissfully blind. Whenever they say this, in my head I replace it with, "Why do I believe that my best option is to end my life?" This decision wasn't made spontaneously, but was the product of over 10 years of pruning where I cut away, or had cut away the world and others, every branch and avenue of hope. I have been in the ministry for almost 8 years, and in the end I believe that God does not exist, that I am unfit from a Darwinian standpoint, and that I have experienced everything this world has to offer. As selfish as it is, I feel like I just need to tell my story in summary. I have lost everything - career, love, finances, health, the ability to feel pleasure, the ability to be. If I even felt like I had nothing, it would be something. My childhood was not horrible, save for that the kids picked at me in school. No big deal. I spent the majority of my young adolescence (4th grade) and teen years in an abusive homes only to be mocked, beaten, and ridiculed everyday at school. Beyond this I was hideously ugly in junior high and high school because of cystic acne and I was 8 inches shorter than the average male. Despite this I converted from the atheism I was raised in to Christianity at 16. I excelled in school, worked to pay my own bills, and got a full ride to college. My college years were mainly spent alone studying, though I had a close knit group of friends for my last two years. Learned Greek, Hebrew, Latin, Aramaic. No girls though save for one short fling and one long unrequited bout with another - I was too serious, I'm still too serious - but I'm talking about suicide so cut me some slack. Started hitting the bottle at 22, hard. Right about then I met Erzsebet. Right before I went to Seminary I met a much older Eastern European woman and fell in love. Unfortunately she was in remission from leukemia which soon resurfaced. I would take the train or drive up every weekend to see her, which was hell on my already busy schedule. It was a perfect hell though, and I had the best days of my life when I was with her. I found out within two weeks of entering grad school that it was pure politics. I should have left then and went to another school - this was the worst mistake of my life. In seminary I was forced to live alone in a small gray and off-white unheated (until November) cinderblock cell and made to read and write the most banal, uninteresting, insubstantial, shit. My undergrad theology material unstripped my grad school as far as day outshines night. I had been at the height of my game before and found my niche - five years later I felt like a neaderthal and still do. Worse, as my fiancees cancer worsened, she began to go mad (it spread to her brain). She lied to me about her finances, which were quickly depleting due to the chemo and blood transfusions - eventually the people in her Synagogue stopped helping her out (but didn't inform her). They left her with a huge interest inflated bill. She became even more distant, and I was sick from the abuse and trials at my school and from helping her as much as I possibly could. I was racking up student debt at this point (and later on credit debt). This is all just the backdrop, the worst was what was happening inside. In December of 2005 I found out that she was cheating on me for money. She had lured back her old abusive doctor ex-fiancee to pick up some of her bills here and there. I found out about this on Christmas Eve when he came suddenly into her apartment while I was there. In January of 2006 I completely lost what small ability I had to feel pleasure. This was more the effect of the years prior to this. The cheating was the straw on the camels back. Despite this I stayed with her. Though at this point I began drinking heavily - 8 to 10 drinks a night. I really don't have the energy right now to complete this story, but I will later hopefully. I need to do this so that it's at least out there. I feel like this I'm doing this to have the material down for when I decide to write my suicide letter. . .