This is the first time I've written about my suicidal feelings. At this point I just want to feel relieved. I was 11 years old the first time the idea of suicide arose in my head. I felt like I didn't fit in; That I was a spectator in this life and that my active presence or actions weren't required. Fast forward nearly 17 years later and those feelings really overwhelm me now. Life is like a theatre for me. Once I leave my bedroom I'm this other person who has to face he world and blend in, who most conform up to a minimum. The only times when I feel really relieved is when I'm alone in a room. It's the only time when there's no pressure. I can be myself, I don't have other people's eyes, judgement and crap interfering. I kind of resent being on earth. I don't feel that I belong here. I've fought the suicidal thoughts for years. I've send the psychologists and counsellors. And no, talking doesn't make me feel better. It actually makes me feel worse. Talking feels like having a magnifying glass in front of you - there's no relief there. Just the realisation that things are so bad. Sometimes I think if I wasn't so lucid or aware, I could go on. Instead I wake up every day and I'm this other person who strives to maintain appearances. Nobody knows the pain and anger I feel inside. Nobody understands how having PCOS, being molested as a child, being raped does. One could say it's my fault: I don't talk. I've tried, but people don't understand. They hear what you say but they don't understand. I found that I could talk endlessly but at the end of the day you really are alone. And talking does not help me. I need relief. I know it's strange but sometimes I wish I were a bit more irrational. I can't bring myself to do drugs or drink to ease the pain. I'm just stuck there trying to find a way to ease the pain. A way to deal with the anger. I'm angry that most of the time I have to be out there pretending to be this person who's got her stuff together. Everyone seems to be some kind of overachiever in my family - I know I could have been one but I wish I didn't have so much pressure. I wish I didn't have to lie so much to keep up appearances. I wish the lies didn't take me this far. I justify them in my head, but they wouldn't understand. So I'm stuck. It's funny how since our childhood, we're taught all these strategies to stay safe and alive. We're constantly reminded that our lives are fragile. But figuring out how to commit suicide is turning out to be such a difficult mission! Where's the fragility of life when it matters? or maybe, once again, it's my fault. It seems that what other people managed to do seamlessly turns into this huge super task for me. I'm nowhere near the status people my age are supposed to be. I am so messed up. So I want to die, because I'm not a hero. I tried but I don't have the will or the energy to persevere. I'm a coward. I'm a failure. Really I'm good for nothing. I feel that I don't deserve to have this family and these friends. I wasn't made for this. I've got 5 days left. I could have given up the idea of death entirely. I think I subconsciously hope to be rescued from myself (being in this forums helps in that respect). But if I stay, what would I do? Stay alive for what and to do what? Nobody needs me. There are 5 days left and I'm terrified of making a mistake. At the same time, I know that I just want to be relieved of the pain. I just want to be relieved. Is there another solution? I really feel that I shouldn't have been born.