I just graduated from college. I'm 22. I have decided that suicide is my best option right now. This year I was diagnosed with bipolar spectrum disorder. I have been severely depressed ever since I was a little kid. It doesn't matter what is going on in my life, whether I'm loved or not loved, successful or not, waking up and living life is excrutiatingly painful. I am almost never manic so I can't even enjoy the highs that typical bipolar sufferers have. Instead, my depression is so bad, there are times I will stay in bed for weeks, catatonic, and need to be spoon fed and bathed by someone else. I am incredibly selfish in my depression and unable to love. I feel as though nothing will ever improve. I have taken almost every medication on the market, self medicated with alcohol and marijuana, and gone to therapy and nothing works. I have no passions or great loves that can break through the depression. I tried traveling and visiting the less fortunate in the third world hoping that, maybe, seeing how great my life was relative to theirs would help me appreciate it. What I realized is that I'm lacking in the basic human ability to live. It doesn't matter if you're rich or poor, healthy or sick, if you don't have your mental health, everything is pain. Two nights ago, my brother stumbled into my room while sleepwalking and urinated all over me. As I was trying to get him away from me, he grabbed me and screamed nonsense into my face. I can't sleep in my own bed anymore, even after putting a lock on the door, because I feel so violated. My parents reaction was to coddle him even as I was moving to my friend's house. Somehow, as always, I became the bad guy. I've reviewed my life and see no reason to go on. In the fall, I would be attending law school at one of the lesser schools in the country. If I continue with my life, I will find myself $130,000 in debt and an abulence chaser. My life will be undignified and lonely as well as filled with excruciating mental anguish. Also, because I've always been the black sheep of the family I can't imagine that my death would really hurt anyone. My relatives and friends would be in mourning for a few weeks and would go on with their lives. Within two weeks I would be no more than a distant memory. I've weighed their negative utility against my own and found that if I survive for the next 60 years, I will suffer more than would all of my family and friends combined if I were to die now. I am not married and have no children. I have a boyfriend who is handsome, young, and successful and will find that his life is no different (if not better) without me. This letter is the beginning of a long journey. I am not one of those people who can decide to die and do it the next day. My ability to kill myself will rest on several months worth of meditating and contemplating as well as getting my affairs in order. Today, I intend to spend the day in bed meditating on the reality of death. The truth is, I am scared and I will have to conquer my fear before I can successfully kill myself. I am not writing this looking for answers. Instead, I am writing it more for myself. Words of wisdom would also be appreciated.