I’m in such despair. All I can think about is suicide – methods, chances of success, but I know I can’t kill myself. I mustn’t. My sister is seriously, probably terminally, ill. She loves life and has so much to live for. I wish it were me instead – I don’t want this life that I’ve been given, I can’t handle it and I despise it. She has two lovely kids who need her. Nobody relies on me, which is just as well. My self-loathing is a poison that eats away at me. I can’t live like normal people do, I can’t cope like normal people do. I wallow in sorrow and ruin everything because my awful moods dictate to me what I can accomplish, and won’t let me just get on. Why couldn’t it be me? – everyone would get what they wanted. I’d be out of my misery quietly and without causing so much hurt to the people who love me and those kids would have their mother to look after them for their whole life. I have to see my GP again tomorrow. I’m so frightened that I won’t get help. I don’t know how to convince them that I need it. I always think that she’ll think I’m exaggerating, attention-seeking, but I’m not – I just can’t describe the pain I’m in, the world of turmoil inside my brain. I’m falling apart more each day. I don’t believe I’ll ever be better, but I can’t cope and I don’t know what comes next.