I will not bore anyone with the past details, but my life has been a pretty relentless suck-fest for a long time. First debilitating regret came pre-kindergarten, first time living on the street was age eleven, that sort of thing. I've seen psychotherapists. They all tell me the same thing. I was never given a chance. Besides, I lost respect for the trade when the most recent's initial reaction to my story was a wide-eyed "... Holy shit." Things considered, I think I turned out somewhat okay. I have abandonment issues and I'm insecure, but I'm a good-looking guy. I have a good personality on the surface - lots of friends, though the people who stick around and try getting to know me almost always leave. The thing is, I've had suicidal urges for as long as I can remember. I relapse often, generally whenever my present life suffers that big hit. It seems to get worse and worse each time. I'll give you a rundown of my current situation. It is Christmas Eve. I have no family, but a small circle of close friends that I think of as such. I'm homeless. Have been for a month and a half, or so. Have just barely held onto my job. Am staying with a close-ish friend whose roommate hates me and wants me out (presumably because I am too quiet). The situation is, all my possessions are in a corner of her closet, I have to hide whenever the landlord is on the property, and I'm out of clean clothes. I hate relying on people, so while this friend's give-all-take-naught is the highest of blessings, it is also killing me. Figuratively speaking. Now, I had a good thing coming together with a pair of great friends, we were priority one on a list of prospective tenants for a three-bedroom apartment in the next town over, around 800$ a month, everything included. We were going to move in together, I was going to keep paying gas money for them to ride me to work, we were going to adopt two cats, and best of all, I would be self-sufficient again! The move was supposed to happen January first. One week from now. One god damned fucking week. Two nights ago, I inadvertently hurt my friend Bailey, one of the roommates; someone I consider one of the people closest to my heart. Part of my chosen family. She no longer wants to move into the apartment. I lashed out at her, told her it was a selfish and irrational move, and she lashed back. Now we aren't talking. Years of bonding time burned up, just like that. And I wish I could say it was the first time. The other roommate can't pick up the slack for two people, as I, at the moment, have barely enough money to keep myself fed. So, my self-sufficiency? Not happening, keep trying, right? But, Bailey was also one of my most reliable rides to work (I work an overnight shift, so finding people with schedules that line up around here is insanely difficult) and now she's not, there is a high probability that I am going to lose my job over attendance issues. Also, there is no way I can stay where I am much longer. Things are already tense, and this most recent failure is only fueling it. So now, here I am, feeling like this simply isn't worth it, again. I'm not sure what I hope to achieve by posting here. Other than distraction from the fact that there is a semi-automatic weapon of easy access inside this house, a factor that I've only faced once before. Tell me what you guys think? Or just talk to me... it doesn't matter.