I just wrote this out on a whim and thought that maybe it would be good to post it somewhere, instead of letting it sit on word. I don't plan on killing myself, but sometimes there are days when it all gets a bit too much. I think I just maybe needed some people to know that, even if they are complete strangers. Where to begin? I am not happy. I have only ever been happy once in my life, and it was short lived, made from sertraline. But that is not fair, the medication is there to help and it did. I was so happy. I could see the silver lining in everything. It has probably worked against me that I was so happy. To fall so far. That wasn’t real happiness though. It was, but it wasn’t. I have an image of myself walking down the street at 18, smiling and walking. The counsellor told me not to be sad and I wasn’t. The sertraline told me to be happy and I was. Does it even count? Was that really being happy? I think back now and I’m embarrassed by it. I was so naive and stupid. I still am in so many ways. But I am also failing at life. /FAL. I don’t think I was failing at life before. I don’t think I’d progressed far enough in life to understand if I was failing or not. I just walked along that path with my smiling face, thinking about how awful things could be, but that tomorrow was another day. Unfortunately I don’t think like that anymore. How do I even think anymore? I think about the days. I think about the short term and the long term. Can I be bothered to keep it up for the long term? For the big picture? Can I be bothered with taking medication for the rest of my life? I was happy, but for a year, maybe two? Out of my whole life. Why does it have to be so awful? I take my medication and I’m neutral. I’m fucking grey. I used to laugh so much, even in my darker days I could laugh. I would cry for laughing so much. But now what? Now I can barely feel amused. I’m constantly aware of how unamused I am. Friends can say something funny, but it’s like I’m punching some sort of auto-fire button. Hahaha. It’s like laughing up broken bricks. A dead fish slapped out of my throat and onto the floor. Hahaha. I don’t know what else to say. To be honest, I won’t commit suicide. I have my family and friends and I couldn’t hurt them. I don’t really want to end my life, I just want for relief. Death probably won’t bring that. It might bring other things, but I doubt one of them is relief. I suppose then this is not really a suicide note, but a sad letter to myself. I hope things get better for me.