The mental anguish. The isolation. The paranoia. I've been disturbed since I was 12. I've seen therapists off and on. I go to a depression group. I go to this website. I wish I could talk to my two good friends more often. I do most of the calling. It's hard to talk about the good things in my life because I can't find any. Maybe I'm bringing people down, I don't know. One thing I'd like to get straight is, when a person kills themselves, that individual is treated like they never existed. All the good done in that person's life is now looked through a gray shrouded glass. The stigma renders everything else irrelevent. It just goes to show you how pig-headed society is. Did it ever occur to these moral morons that the person was pushed beyond the pain limit? I'm in my 40s. When I feel down, I feel worse than before. My fucking insurance won't cover any individual psychotherapy. I can't afford antidepressants. I feel like I'm struggling, struggling, struggling. It would be easy for me to get a gun and end my life. I need a big change in my life. Like, right now.