Ever since I was around 6 or 7, I remember always being sad. But never about anything in particular. Just the state of things. My mother was a heavy alcoholic and had liked to yell at me over any little thing. My brother would take this verbal abuse too and take his anger out on me by going out of his way to make me feel worthless. He'd have a bad day at school or something, and then come home and say anything and everything that would get me to cry (which wasn't hard at all, I've always been dangerously sensitive), follow me around the house or barge into my room and just be an all-around asshole. When friends would come over, he'd get physical and try to show off the dominance he had over me and generally humiliate me in any way he could. All the time. One time in the 4th grade, I was excessively hyper (and loud) that night and my mother starts going off on me for something. I casually try to brush her off and then She says if I don't shut up she'll hit me. She did this a lot, at the time I was sick of hearing about it and it was clearly evident in the way I looked at her. "DON'T YOU FUCKING LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT YOU LITTLE SHIT!" amongst other things. She eventually struck a nerve and I went to my room, to cry (it's the only way I ever knew how to express feelings). She stomps downstairs for something, hears me through the very thin walls and tells me to stop my "god-damn crying." This happened a lot, I'd express myself in some fashion (ranging from slightly annoyed to angry to sad) and get screamed at for it. I entered Junior High and started avoiding my family. I changed, people no longer wanted to be around me and I felt the same towards them. I learned how to be completely silent when I cried, to force back my annoyed sighs and eye-rolling, etc. Now I never hear the end of "SHE NEVER TALKS TO ME!" Back in May I went through an enormous ordeal at my school. I ruined what future I had by overreacting to an assumption. I was kicked out of school and sent to the looney wing of the hospital for a week and a half. Having people observe me in every little thing I did. Being treated like a complete freak and having to go through 3 hours of sessions with 3 different doctors every day and nurses talking my ear off when I wasn't with the doctors. I told the school psychiatrist at the school how I felt about the situation going on at the time, she didn't listen to a fucking word I ever said. Instead she caught bits and pieces and made her own half-assed assumptions about my feelings, calling my mom and tellng her a bunch of bullshit that wasn't close to being true and having Her believe it because of the ****'s socalled credentials. This bitch told the staff a bunch of fucking lies that made me look like a psychotic Columbine kid. I tried my fucking damndest to resolve it, but instead was told to fuck off and quit crying. Because my moral priorities are a bunch of bullshit, right? I'm insane, I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about, right? Yeah, actually. I should've kept my mouth shut, I had no right reacting to that man's ethics the way I did. I'd still be in school, I'd still have a chance at a real life. I can't get over the fact that I just fucked myself over. To this day I'm still treated like a psycho. I go to therapy sessions every 2 weeks and fucking despise it. Dr. A tries to tell me to stop isolating myself and open up to people, when the last time I tried that shit no one listened and threw me in the crazy wing. Every time I express myself I get in trouble for it. It never served any good for me. At any time. Even when I do tell her how I feel, she says "I think you need new medication" as if what I'm feeling isn't real. Or maybe it isn't, I don't know who the hell I am anymore because of the meds. I'm tired of being married to my psychiatrist and pills. I'm tired of my efforts never meaning anything. I'm tired of putting my mother through all this shit, the school, the medicaid, the pills, the appointments. At the same time, she deserves the trouble for making all my private, very pesronsal problems gossip fodder. Having her friends make jokes to me about something that should have never been their fucking business or try to sympathize with me about it. I feel like I've reached the end of my rope. I want to take another wack at killing myself. I want to break free from all this bullshit, doing things for the sake of other people who I don't even think I really care about. Let me rest for once in my life. Let me be at peace. I just want to lay down and have my body stuffed into a box. Let me rot in the ground for all the shit I've done. It's what I want, it's what I deserve. I've decided to begin preparations today, and I'm excited. It's liberating to know that it'll be alright one day. It'll all be over soon. :laugh: I'm finally in control. It feels fabulous. That's such a cheesy thing to say, but it's true.