Since I turned 19 years old, I've often mused to myself during turbulent times: 'Mike, if things are still going downhill at 25, then kick the bucket.' Now that I've reached that milestone, I'm reviewing those things. The prognosis isn't favourable. For that reason, I feel powerfully compelled to set a date, and make the necessary preparations for suicide. I wish my life hadn't turned out like this. Incessant depression and wildly oscillating moods; isolation; debilitating health; emotional scars that don't heal. I wish there was something to hope for. Alas, life deals it's cards. My dearest wish now is that I'll summon the courage to kill myself with dignity. I have no function in this interdependent society, and neither do I care to manifest a productive function in the future. Sadly, I'm unequipped to live outside of 'the beast'. Thankfully, I know it's not my fault the way life has turned out. I don't blame anybody else either, because their behaviour was a product of their own equally traumatic experiences. Living in quiet desperation. P.S If anybody intends to post a reply, then may I kindly request that you refrain from writing sympathetic remarks. Ty.