This feels quite pointless. I don't know why I'm reaching out for help - I don't think that there is anyone who can help. The pain I feel seems to be endless. I don't remember what it feels like to be happy, to get up in the morning looking forward to the day, to have a heart that doesn't bleed, to be free of pain. I have the means and I have a plan, but I want to wait for just one week. That should be enough to get things tidy so I don't leave a mess behind me. Only, I don't think that I can wait that long. It seems like an eternity. I had a life once, but becoming mentally ill stripped me of it. My kids will have nothing to do with me because I'm ill. Mental illness does not exist, according to them and to my ex, and I should snap out of it, stop looking for attention, grow up and get a life.... I'm sure that you get the picture. I have tried so hard over the last year and a half to put myself back together, and I've failed miserably. I just want the pain to stop and to find peace. The only peace that I know of is the peace of the grave. I want to go there so badly. The pills sing to me so sweetly of peace.