I do not claim this will be an interesting read. It is just that I have never been a big talker, especially when I was the subject. However, at the moment i feel drunk and honest, so I thought I'd share this. The 'so far' is between brackets, because I doubt there is gonna be much more to add. I have been fucked up since I was pretty small. As soon as death was explained to me, it was something I was absolutely terrified of. Especially the fact that most people die in their sleep, gave me a hard time to get some rest. The fact that a 7 year old boy was quite unlikely to die just yet, didn't deter that in any way. I had a night light in my bedroom, not so i could navigate around or because I was scared of the dark, but string into it for long enough would sort of hypnotise me so I could go to sleep. Years before someone would explain to me what 'paradox' meant, I was so afraid of death that I decided I couldn't live like this any more and wanted to kill myself. I did this by walking in traffic, but always jumping away just before a car would hit me. I (already) hated myself for being such a coward. One story that might indicate how I felt is the following. During a sports training, I got in an argument with the trainer. When I told my mom about this when she drove me back after the training, she turned the car around because she felt I needed to apologise to him. I felt I was in the right and didn't need to apologise, so I opened my door and would have jumped if she didn't turn the car back round. This story was all from hearsay, as I was still quite young at the time and it apparently didn't register with me as a special moment. Meanwhile there was little wrong with my mental capacities. I skipped a grade after being found 'gifted'. I went to the gymnasium for a couple of years, before dropping the classic languages for subjects I found more interesting. I was a multiple local junior chess champion and missed the nation championships by a single spot in a regional qualifier. I passed high-school with flying colours without ever putting any effort in it and went on to study electrical engineering at university, largely because it was presented as a challenging study. In the beginning things went quite all right at the university. Off course there was a lot more freedom, but I went to the lectures, because that was just the thing you were supposed to do. If you got home at 5 and the alarm went of at 7:30, you got out of bed. As the year went on, however, I got the idea that you could also just skip those lectures and still pass the subjects. Meanwhile, if I was late with some report by a day, sometimes with good reasons, I'd be too embarrassed to admit it at that moment, so I just ignored it for the time being. This off course just added to the problem, as when explaining a single day of tardiness was considered hard by me, explaining 2 weeks was neigh impossible. I talked about this with my study counsellor once. He advised talking to a shrink about it (which was free as a student). I did have an intake talk with one and afterwards got a letter about how they suggested to proceed from here on out. That letter has been laying in my room unopened for a couple of months before I threw it out. That was an approach I took to many letters afterwards and at some point I stopped checking my e-mail for the same reason. I made a promise to myself I would do at least one useful thing a day, but most evenings I went to bed knowing I had broken it. During this period my study really went to shit. At the point where even I couldn't deny this any more, I considered suicide again for the first time in long period. This came to surface in a drunken fury. I hugged it out with a dorm-mate I had at the time, but this obviously didn't solve any of the underlying problems. During my study I also did something horrible and disgusting. I do not want to talk about this, but I hope that my openness about other things will convince you of my sham about it. After 3 years I officially stopped my study, having gained the study point one could gain in 1.25 years. I didn't even have my propaedeutics cause too many of my points were earned in subjects of the second and third years. After failing my studies, I moved back in with my parents. To all the people that feel bad for living with their parents at too old an age, let me assure them that moving back in with them is a lot more embarrassing. I went to part time college (basicley a level lower than university) and got a job for 4 days a week. The job I got was for a small and specialised company in power electronics. I was a tester/service guy. I really loved the job at first and because it was so specialised it had me going to countries like Finland, Italy, Spain, Canada and the Caribbean to fix things. However the job did exhaust me. The study however, I started with zero motivation as I -rightfully- felt it was beneath my abilities. I passed the exams without any problems, but I did not hand in the assignments. I convinced my – gullible – self that I would hand them in later, as I would get more accustomed too my work schedule. I started getting suicidal thoughts again, this time not seriously, but as a reassurance that I had control over my life because I could opt out if I ever felt like it. I don't know if that makes sense, but guess this is the best forum to ask if it does... By now the company has gone bankrupt. I was one of the quarter of the staff that could keep their job with a new company that bought parts of the old one. However, this part is all domestic. It used to be that I started to look at watch to see if it was time to go home at about 14:00 (I work from 8:00 to 16:30), this morning it was 9:30 when I did that. Both my employer and the people around me have been convinced by me that a have just begun on thesis, while in reality the delay I have accumulated by not handing in assignments has made it impossible for me to ever graduate. My card-house of lies is gonna fall one way or the other pretty soon anyway; I'd better make sure I am no longer around when it does...I know it is not the best reason to kill yourself, but I'm sure plenty of people have killed themselves for less. My first 'real' attempt to kill myself was a couple of months back. All that that achieved was 16 strait hours of puking (which I afterwards blamed on handling raw chicken). For my second attempt I thought cutting my wrist would kill me. Obviously it didn't work, but it did get me hooked on self harm. After those two, I've done some research and am quite sure that the third time will be the charm. In the preceding article, please blame any weird sentence structure on English not being my primary language and blame any incoherence on either that, or my being drunk. Or you can blame it all on me being me, I don't really care.