Thanks Ryan and Claire. I don't know, I think when push comes to shove, my mother in particular is such a stickler for glossy outward apperances and would be so ashamed that she couldn't have me committed. And at the end of the day, she knew of my first attempt when I was thirteen and I'm now twentyfour. I have one of the most unbelivably judgemental families even though not one of them is an upstanding member of the community, most of them are still various misfits in their own way, and yet the unbeleivable abuse and the callous, derogotory remarks I get from them if I so much as mention I'm at my wits end is so fucking alienating and hurtful. So I just don't say anything to them. I as good as much told friends a couple of months back that I couldn't deal with seeing them and I just want to be left alone because I couldn't stand being a constant fake or the effort in being 'acceptable'. The only person I had was my boyfriend of four years, but we're currently not together as of a fortnight ago, and I just cannot cope with life if I never see him again, I am disgustingly, pathetically dependent on him and he can't cope with it because he is severely bi polar and gets in such bad rages that I have to hide from him in the house! This is the worst I have ever been, all I think about is suicide and then the fear of the pain of suicide and then well maybe, if or when me and my ex get back together (which we always have) then there's a reason not to commit suicide. I still talk to him via text and online every day, to the point of harassing him, but I just cannot go on much longer without him. I can't believe I am seriously willing to give my life up if it means not being with another nutcase, albeit a nutcase I could very much relate to. I've been in bed all day every day for the past five days except when I'm on the computer, I haven't eaten a morsel of food for three days, just been forcing myself to drink milk as I figure it's fattening so will provide some sort of meagre sustenance. I utterly, utterly, utterly detest this embarassing means of existence, I can't even bring myself to get a job like proper people because it's too much effort and involves a level of social fakery which I cannot seem to hack any longer. I just look at baby photos of myself and cry for the cute little girl who would inevitably grow up into this sorry sack of shit. Sorry for the whinge, but I'm just so exhausted with this feeling. And I can only sleep between six in the morning and ten, the rest of the time I just lie there staring at the ceiling. What a nobody.