Every day I wake up to the usual struggle with anxiety and the soul-corrosive loneliness. Everyday it gets harder to deal with the burden of all my past failures, and everyday it gets harder to even fantasize about a happy life for myself. I'll always be alone, I'm tired of wallowing in that false hope I so desperately cling to. I doubt very much I'll actually kill myself, but I want to. Only the people on this forum would understand the longing for all the pain and suffering to just be over. For some people, life is just a series of disappointments and sufferings that have no end, they just go on and on and on...... what is a person living this kind of life supposed to do? 'Normal' people spout the usual nonsense: "Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem" (though not temporary in my case, it's not just a simple problem I've encountered but my entire state of existence that's the problem); "Suicide is the coward's way out. Living takes real courage" (then why have I so far been unable to do it, to kill myself, when my life is so unlivable? I feel like a coward for not doing the one thing left to me, the one power I have over my problems); "Things won't be bad forever, it'll change for the better. You'll see" (I've been waiting for a change for the better for years and years, and all I get is shattered hopes that make me feel worse). But the people who spout these platitudes can't answer the question I need answered: What am I actually supposed to do with myself? What's the cure for loneliness when you can't be yourself around other people, and are so anxious around them that you actually avoid situations where you would be with strangers? What's the solution to having no job when you have no job history and no skills? Why settle for the shit I have to wade through day after day when I have the power to stop it, to turn on this life that torments me and say "No more. You shall no longer have me to torture anymore. I can end it and will?" Still I do nothing but long for a time when I can lay down these burdens, put away all false hope and find the only kind of rest from sorrow I can ever know. __________________ There is no creature loves me; And if I die, no soul will pity me. And wherefore should they, since that I myself Find in myself no pity to myself?