Everywhere I look for help, the answer is always to talk to someone. I'd love to talk, really I would, but I don't know more than a handful of people, and I'm not friends with any of them. Since what I really need to talk about is my depression and confusion, I doubt I'll get closer to anyone soon. My family is a no-go. Heck, I live with my sister, she knows I'm cutting, and she still thinks avoiding me when I'm having a crying fit is the best option. I feel so alone and afraid, but at the same time lethargic, like I don't really want to get out of this rut. I hear myself making excuses, and I know it's wrong, but there's no motivation left inside me to do anything except exist. I think about suicide all the time; sometimes I fantasize about it just to get me through my workday. I spend almost every evening crying. I want to go to therapy, but I haven't got the money, and I'm fearful of my family's reaction. I used to really believe I was going to grow up to be a novelist. Now, it just seems like a big pipe dream. I feel awful even thinking about unloading my problems onto someone else, but I know inside that if I don't, eventually I'll break down in public, or worse, do something to myself that I can never fix. What I secretly dream of is someone to share my likes and dislikes, the sort of best friend you talk all night with... but I'll settle for just somebody to commiserate. I hope this works, because this is the last place I can think of to find some release.