Been 6 months since I've felt bad enough to post in here. That's some sort of progress I guess. That's the question really, what progress has been made. About six months from getting my heart broken, and my life set back to square one, I'm still there. That's the problem right there, not just with this, but with everything, it all cycles back to the same base point of absolute shittyness. All roads lead to Rome and all that. I keep finding pieces of myself, but misplacing them again. I do something, show myself I can do it, then suddenly I can't any more, the wall is back, whatever is there and was messing me around before is doing so again. I grasp on to... well anything I can to tell myself it's not that way. That's good I guess, that I want to tell myself there's been progress. But it feels like a lie. Death... is so sweet you see. It just stops all the struggling. I hate clutching for the tiniest bits of hope, and having them fall through my fingers again. The thing is, I'm more honest with myself now than I have been in a long time. I'm not a bad person, just a broken one. And I don't know whether that change is an improvement. My happiest times are when I've been able to delude myself in to believing I was happy. Honesty is painful and brutal at times. I'm brutal enough with myself physically to be able to deal with that mental truth too, but I'm not sure about its consequences. This isn't particularly coherent I know, I'm not at my best here. I'm cold and defensive, so I know this will just be another cycle. The obvious is easy to deflect, I know that time changes things, I know that it might get better. But it might not too. I ask myself how much of my life I've wasted by hoping things would get better, trying to make things better, but failing. Far too long. All that's going round in my thoughts this evening is that it would take me 4 minutes to go from here to dead, and it's a way I'm certain will work. If... if I can stay focused on it for that long, I can put myself out of this misery permanently. I don't want to have reasons to keep going, I don't want to want a better life. It's ridiculous that right now the thoughts that should help me, hurt me, like they are mocking me. Happiness is mocking, because it takes me further away from being able to get that focus for 4 minutes. The worst bit is I know how this will end. It will be close, but I will stay. Because I can't pull together in my head when I'm like this, the required thoughts to make myself go through with it. It makes me feel ridiculous, I feel suicidal, I want to die, I want to kill myself, but I know I wont this time. Like a fucking anti-cry for attention "Help, I'm going to survive!"... I'm stupid and pathetic. I'm going to hurt myself, and tomorrow I'm going to make myself seem like I'm ok, tell everyone on here and in real life it's alright. And I'll almost believe it too for a while. I mean I'll be falling apart on the inside, feeling absolutely distraught, but everyone will believe it's not too bad. Fuck, I'm mocking myself here. So predictable really. Sorry.