I haven't posted in a while. But tonight I'm ready to vent to a few people who get me. My family and friends have made it clear that they don't... I'm sure everyone here is familiar with the weight that depression brings to a person. That undefinable pulling in your body that feels like the earth has a little more gravity saved up to use on you. It's hard enough to get up in the morning, and then I'm expected to live a normal life--get a job, clean my house, run errands....so on and so on..... It should be easy. But it's not. It's the hardest thing I have to do. Just waking up. Just getting out of bed. Just getting dressed. Just contributing. It's not "just" doing things. It's all very overwhelming. Here's my story in a delicious bite-sized piece: My dad is a cheating asshole who abused my family growing up, cheated on my mom with multiple women in ages ranging from 17 to 83, and left my mom for a trashy whore named Michelle. Fuck that bitch, but I guess they were a perfect match. Since my mom and dad's divorce, my mom has been a bipolar, condescending, un-supportive mess. She makes it clear, often and loudly, that I'm only in her way and I'm not part of the family and I'm worthless and I'm--well, you get the picture. I have three little brothers. One in juvenile detention, and two that still go on visitation with my father. The one that is locked up is there because he has Asperger's Syndrome and made a few mistakes because he's incapable of understanding things at his age level. The other two fight for my father's attention....currently M is winning and A (who is only 8 yrs old) has already threatened to throw himself off a balcony because of the unfair treatment he gets from my dad. I think you're getting the feel of my day to day tragedies. But then there's me. I'm a recovering cutter and a survivor of a few suicide attempts. The last of which is what I think threw me into this pit of despair. It was during the spring semester and I still haven't been able to get over it. I talked to counselors, I even went to a psychiatrist. I was put on Prozac and soon after, put on meds for my recently diagnosed Type 2 Diabetes. Great. Not only am I ready to kill myself, but I have to prick my fingers and test my blood sugar twice a day until I do so. Wonderful. But here's the real juicy part. I failed out of that semester and now I'm stuck between a rock and a crappy community college. I've put my mom at bay by telling her that I had a "really hard semester" and my depression was out of control. I haven't told her about any of my cutting or suicide attempts....but if only she knew. I wonder if her bitchy comments would stop. I'm getting hopeless. I guess what I want is something to hold on to or be remembered by. Something tells me that my time is short. I can feel the opportunities presenting themselves, and I'm fighting them off....for now. The only thing that stops me from cutting is the line of embarrassing scars down the back of my calf that prevents me from wearing shorts, capris, bathing suits, skirts, etc.. I bought some scar removal cream, but it doesn't work fast enough. With that safety net gone, I've turned to smoking weed. Speaking of that, I'm pretty sure it's the only thing keeping me alive. When I smoke, everything is sunny. I see things in Technicolor. Everything is HD and I'm living for me and for peace, and for hippies all over the planet. It makes me want to drive and drive and drive until I'm out of gas, then push my car to a station down the road, smoke a bowl, then keep going....never to return. But damn those high gas prices!! I can't go fucking anywhere. But my smoking....I'm sure it's not the healthiest of choices, but if you knew of the demons it's keeping away, then you might understand. Even now, at 3:30 AM I'm tempted to patch up these feelings with another glorious fog, but I can tell it's only a temporary solution. I'm a cutter. Temporary solutions are my life. So, since I've seen myself rant into oblivion, I'm going to try to make it short and sweet.... I'm lost, lonely, hopeless, and incredibly depressed. I deal with intense suicidal feelings at least once everyday--scenarios that I play over and over and over in my head until it hurts to even breathe. I'm overweight and unhealthy, and my kidneys probably aren't doing too well. I have no hopes/plans/dreams/goals for the future, and it doesn't look like the future has much for me either. I cry alone and the closest thing to a boyfriend that I've had is my gay best guy friend who--by the way--is sort of getting tired of dealing with me at my worst.... You could say I'm not doing too well. Thanks for reading this. You didn't have to.