I know, I know, you've probably read this all before, so there's really not going to be anything special about what I say. There's nothing dramatic about it. I've just had enough of living with myself. I won't do what it takes to make myself feel better. I must prefer the pain and withdrawal and tears over any fleeting happiness out there. The world is getting scary, between police shootings, terrorism and a bully of a man running for president. But more so, I just don't have any confidence that I can handle what I'm going to have to in the future -- assuming I'm still living. I've been a failure and a lazy bum for 25 years -- why would I suddenly change now? Maybe I had a chance last year with some unexpected happiness, but it's gone now and I don't feel it could ever be replicated. I know this doesn't tell my full story, except to say if I can find some way to commit suicide without getting anyone else involved (train engineer, another driver, etc.) and make sure that I will NOT survive the attempt, I just might go ahead with it. I don't think there's any hope to experience any joy out of life. Even if I tried, it would involve going through anxiety, awkwardness and self-consciousness just for a few fleeting moments. Does that seem worth it? I don't think so. I don't know what anyone can tell me. I don't anyone writing back just for the sake of telling me "things can be okay." You don't know me. I can't or won't make things right. I just promised I would write something before continuing to research suicide methods. Yes, it does seem easier than researching happiness, before you bring it up.