So it begins. The automatic suicidal thoughts have started. My own logic is starting to fail me and is instead twisting into a dark mirror. Feeding me reasons to just give up and say enough is enough. Worse than that my own scathingly critical mind is making statements that I really am struggling to refute. How do you refute the pain you are in with full knowledge it will get worse? Why wait for it? The dead can't suffer homelessness either. Thanks mind. But yeah, my line is certainly drawn. I have never been impulsive. The means in mind is both painless and almost certain. Guess knowledge in science in this instance is not good for my continued existence. It bothers me I am somewhat numb to the mechanics. It just runs through my head like a dispassionate checklist; end product = corpse. I am on the path to losing insight. I should probably be picking up the phone. But my mind is saying why? It all just repeats. Last year was bad, it took three months in a psych unit to even partially recover. Along with some powerful drugs and a very patient therapist that even got me marginally functional. I fear being that lost again, but it has already started. The slowing down, the finding it hard to even put words or thoughts together. The cycle down begins. I am now useless to every one and have stepped down from everything. Worst possible damn timing, sodding Bipolar! At the same time I just want to sink into it, let it invade all corners of my mind. Pull me down and drown out humanity, the demise of all care, so it can finally just end me. Sick of the struggle and fighting myself and rampant societal psychopathy that allows me no rest. Right now I am aware of the utter pain my choosing to self exit would cause to so many. But at the aching core of it all, I am simply so utterly weary.