i guess it's pretentious to quote pink floyd (or probably any band, for that matter, considering this is a suicide forum), but i am really bad at subject lines and "comfortably numb" just popped into my head. i am not bipolar, or at least i haven't been diagnosed as such, but my moods are so unstable that it's really wearing me down. one night i'll feel pumped up and ready to start living again, and i'll resolve to get shit done, to exercise and get a job and stop feeling sorry for myself, and then i'll wake up the very next morning and just want to go back to sleep forever. i've had suicidal thoughts for a long time, but recently they've become very difficult for me to push aside. i can hardly even conceive of a future that would make me happy, so i figure -- why keep fighting so hard when there's very little chance of satisfaction in life? growing up i had my academic accomplishments to keep me sane. i didn't have to try my very hardest most of the time, and yet i was first in my class in elementary school, junior high, and high school. then i went to MIT, and i found out what it was like to be just another student -- i did fine but not exceptionally, was just a face in the crowd; i never found a niche, and i ultimately realized i really didn't want to pursue science as a career. so i took a year off to study the piano, which i love more than almost anything, but my teacher, though brilliant, ended up indirectly discouraging my continued studies by showing me that even a life in music was filled less with harmony and counterpoint and emotion than with pure hard work and diligence -- and when i tried to keep up the practice sessions for hours a day, i got sick of playing the piano. i don't want to feel like my favorite activity is a chore. so i decided to go back to school. i should have been on track to graduate in 2010. now i'll be lucky if i do it by 2013. and i applied to transfer to a bunch of elite colleges that probably won't accept me, because i've been too depressed to get a job or get involved in anything productive since i left MIT for the second time in october. i have never heard of a single career that would make me feel useful AND happy. i have no goals right now. i want, objectively, to get a bachelor's degree and thus have a chance at gainful employment, but the only thing i haven't tried is liberal arts -- and i love literature, writing, music, and so forth, but i am not exceptionally talented in any one area, and people at MIT have given such reactions as "what do you DO with an english degree, anyway?" and i know i could tell them, you know, there are lots of things: editing, teaching, writing, or doing something totally unrelated because your degree doesn't have to dictate what you do with your life. but i don't even know why i'm still trying, other than to try to please my family. i have two loving, caring parents and a sister who is my best friend, and their potential devastation is the only thing that has stopped me on many an occasion from killing myself. they would all do anything for me, and instead of feeling grateful i feel more guilty, because i know i don't deserve that kind of unconditional love. i know how lucky i am to have the life i have, but even with everything i have going for me, i STILL don't want to live this life. i have been clinically depressed since tenth grade, and probably just undiagnosed before then, since that was the first time i saw a psychiatrist. i am sick and tired of feeling sick and tired all the time. my friends tried many times to help me, but in the end, they, too, are sick of my depression, and who can blame them? it must get tiring when my complaints are always the same, when even a great day can be immediately followed by a month of soul-crushing depression. i would probably give up on me too, if i were them. i feel like i am nothing but wasted potential in a broken body. i am physically and mentally exhausted. i hate waking up every morning and knowing i can't change or undo the past. i wish i could go back to my senior year of high school, when i had friends and the whole world seemed open to me (and yet, even then, i was still really depressed -- so how can i hope to ever be happy when the prospects for my future just diminish with every passing day of my inactivity?). i've tried every kind of anti-depressant except MAOIs, and i'm not willing to go that route. i see a therapist regularly, and she is good at what she does -- but none of it helps in the long term. i still think the world is a miserable, hopeless place, and i just want to get out of it before it can hurt me any more than it already has. if i knew of an easy or painless or surefire way of killing myself, i would have done it by now. the thought of waking up in a hospital surrounded by worried family members and being forever an "attempted suicide" case would be worse than what i have now, so i haven't been willing to risk it thus far. but i want to die, and i don't know how to make that feeling stop. i have time now to read good books, watch good movies, brush up on current events, learn whatever i want -- and still, i have no will to get up in the morning. if i made it through the next few years, i'd have a stupid fucking 9-5 job, so i'd only have a few hours a day to do what i really wanted. i want to know something about everything, but the way to survive and be successful on earth is to know everything about something. i just don't have that kind of focus; i am not interested enough in any one thing to study it for an extended period of time without getting horribly sick of it. i don't know how i am going to make it. but because i am too afraid of the risks of suicide, i keep pressing on, devoid of any spark, or any vim or vigor or sign of life. i wish i were able to concisely sum up my reasons for wanting to die, but they go back very far and i just don't have the energy right now. and everyone's got a reason, i guess. we're all here, aren't we? i hope everyone reading this finds a reason to LIVE, instead, and that one day we will all look back on these days as a necessary but temporary rough patch. sigh. thanks for reading; it felt good to write, even just this little bit. i'm not going to kill myself tonight, but i can never make any promises about tomorrow.