Hi to all that may read this, So as I sit here with a ,edit moderator total eclipse method> I realised that as a citizen of this planet for the <edit moderator total eclipse timeline> All the literature I have read on the Web regarding suicide prevention and the reasons not to complete are wholly centered around invoking feelings of compassion for those that I would leave behind. Essentially an attempt to make me feel guilt and about the impact that taking my own life would have on my loved ones, my friends even my aquaintences. I wonder if such compassion existed that I would be about to end my life at all. I haven't recieved any calls or messages from my so called family and friends in months, actually the timeframe is getting closer to a year, no birthday cards no early Christmas wishes, nothing at all. I've lost my job and my marriage in the last 5 years, I will have lost two houses and every person that I thought cared for me. Where is the compassion in that? Where is the love that people so readily speak of? The sad truth is that sometimes when you are truly all alone as I am, that death isn't a solution to a temporary problem it doesn't mean that I have run out of coping rescources. It simply means that without love, or companionship or the promise that the phone will ring that there is no reason to wake tomorrow and endure another day. I've given myself a week, a month on a few occasions just as crisis centers say I should. But when you wake in the morning with this feeling.... Let me try to explain... we have all, at some point in our lives, suffered loss. It is the single most defining pain one can experience, I know that you will understand what I'm talking about when I describe a gut wrenching bottomless hole deep in your stomach, that moves around just to keep letting you know it's there, that sleeps when you do only to wake when you do, that can't be removed or replaced, quietened or arrested. Imagine that pain everyday, for the last 5 years, and where time should promise relief and sanctuary the stark reality of life only serves to feed it. This is my pain, it's one that I can no longer endure, it's one that I will no longer suffer. Life is beautiful? For most it really is and I do so wish all those that have made better choices than I stay around to experience it all. For some, like me, life is a battle, one that I knew I could not fight forever and I have simply reached the end. I am a 34 year old man, I am 6' 6" tall and to see me you would not think anything was wrong with me. On the inside I am broken, to the opposite sex I am desperate and needy, to what used to be my friends I am whinger and I spoil a night out, to my family I am not worth the trouble. The me that lives today bears no resemblence to any man I like, no man at all. I take comfort in the fact that somewhere out there in the cloud a piece of me will exist, in my truest form, the man writing this, without pretence or the need for social barriers, a man that has reached the end of his time. My only regret will be that I will die with such a heavy heart and an overwhelming sense of sadness inside of me.