I realise this will be tedious reading, but good to get it out. I’m very inarticulate, so apologies if this is heavy going. Firstly, I’m not an immediate danger to myself. I’m perfectly calm. I’m male, 32 years old, I decided a good few months ago that I was finally going to kill myself. I quit my job, and moved to a different country, because I figured if I can get myself away from people I know, they’ll forget about me a little bit and won’t miss me as much after it happens. I have organised all my finances and everything else and decided how I’m going to do it. My savings will probably run out in the next five or six months, so I guess that will be the time. What’s holding me back is I feel really guilty about my family. My dad and my younger sister will be devastated (obviously), but I think they’ll get over it. However, I can’t stop imagining how my older sister will react. She’s sensitive, and I think it might break her heart permanently. I remember when I was a teenager telling a friend that I had suicidal thoughts, and was surprised when he looked shocked. I’ve had periods in my 20s when I’ve been close to going through with it. Since as long as I can remember, whenever I consider anything long term (career plan, marriage, pension etc), there’s a little voice in me that says ‘what for? You won’t be around that long’. Sometimes I’ll look in the mirror, or I’ll just catch myself thinking ‘why am I still here?’. It’s difficult to explain, I’m homesick for a place that doesn’t exist, never did, and never will. My parents divorced when I was young. My mother was a drunk who died a slow and painful death. She committed suicide, more or less, she just did it with cigarettes and alcohol and it took her about 15 years. I’m sure that had an effect on me, although I really don’t like to put too much weight on it, because who had it easy growing up? My mother was a drunk, but she was other things too, she was actually pretty great. I believe you make your own life, I don’t like the idea that as soon as someone has a baby they stop being a ‘person’ and become a ‘parent’ – someone who has to sacrifice their entire life for their children. The position I’m in now is entirely of my own making and I take complete responsibility for it. I guess I’m an alcoholic, because alcohol is the best way I’ve found to get my brain to leave me alone for a little while. I’m not that bad, I don’t drink everyday, and I’ve never lost a job, been in a fight, been arrested, driven while drunk etc. I used to have a big problem with insomnia, but that miraculously disappeared about 4 years ago. For a while I used to stub cigarettes out on my arms, standard self-loathing thing, but a couple of people noticed the marks, so I stopped (and have since quit smoking). There is no way I could tell a friend or family member how I feel, or check myself into a hospital or anything, not in a million years, I’m just not that kind of person (even this, anonymously over the internet, is uncomfortable for me). I cannot bare fuss, inconveniencing people, being the centre of attention or anything like that – I never had a birthday party when I was a kid for that reason. A friend once told me that if he had to sum me up in one word, the word would be ‘aloof’. That’s probably fair. I’m a loner, but I’m definitely not a misanthrope – I like everyone (or I certainly dislike nobody), I just don’t like inflicting my company on other people, y’know? If you’re sat on your own watching a movie or reading a book, you’re never bothering anyone. I can socialise, but after a couple of hours I’m totally exhausted and feel like I have to go home and lock myself in a room and sleep for several days. Once, a friend made the mistake of accidentally sending an email about me to me, and in it, he said something like I can “easily hold my own in all social situations, but it’s as if I choose to have minimal participation in society”. I’ve always had friends, but I try and keep them at arm’s length, and have consciously pushed them away over the years, although I still have six or seven I’m in regular contact with, usually by email. This is going to sound weird, but at my last job I had an assistant, and she was the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen (seriously, ‘beautiful’ is just a word, there is no word for what she is), and she was also really lovely and charming, we got along great. On my last day at that job, she cried and hugged me, it was sweet, and I had the odd feeling that that was a sign, you know? Hugged by the most beautiful girl in the world, a nice way to end my life. I’m an atheist, I don’t believe in spiritualism or anything, but that felt like a cosmic arrow in my brain. Like that saying - the wisdom in attending a party is knowing when it’s time to leave. (I often wonder if lunatics know that they’re lunatics, and having just re-read that last paragraph, I guess the answer is no, because I’m clearly a whack-job, lol). Without wishing to be melodramatic, I’m pretty sure that no matter what happens, at some point or another I’ll build up the courage and actually go through with it. I’m terrified of dying, but the passage of time isn’t going to lessen that, so why not get it over with. I’m sure I don’t have ‘depression’ - obviously I don’t deny that it is a medical condition (anymore than I’d deny that schizophrenia is one), but I’m certain that my sadness is much more existential than medical. I’m not really even that depressed, it’s just imagining the relentless tedious maintenance of being alive – of eating and haircuts and worrying about the rent and feeling obliged to pretend to care about some pointless job, and in the end, it’s all for nothing. I’m not looking to be ‘talked down’, I sincerley believe that this is the best thing for me. Anyway, that’s me, sorry it’s so long, thanks for reading (and if you’ve made it this far, that’s amazing ), it was quite cathartic.