Well, here goes. This post may contain elements some people find upsetting. My name is Prophet, I'm 25 years old. The first elements of depression occurred to me when I was in high school, around 15/16. That's when I first realised I have no regard for my own life. I always hated school, I wasn't bullied, I had friends, I just hated the place, the teachers, the system. I have an older family, so I've been around adults most of my life, so I always had a massive problem with the way teachers talk down to you. In my reports there was always praise from the good teachers about my level of communication, nothing like the 16yr olds around me. They talked down to me and I hated them for it, I was always told if you didn't like something, don't do it, walk away, I took that literally and basically went to school on my own terms, couple days a week, lots of absences. Then I took it further, I didn't like life, so I tried to stop it, I took an overdose of some pills, my dad had a physical disability (motorbike crash) so there was always lots of meds around. I took a load of pills and went to bed, woke up the next day. Guess I fucked it up. I was ill for a couple of days but I was still alive. I told no one about this, as far as I was concerned, it was my choice. I didn't see anything wrong with it, we're born with free will, why shouldn't we be able to check out whenever we want. I put the feelings away and coasted out of school with enough GCSEs to get into college. Best years of my life, met some friends I'm still with some, met some teachers I still know now. Turns out you can't put feelings away, I still held no value to my life. I got into drugs of all kinds, up to and including class A. I got myself off the hard drugs, still smoked some weed socially and came out of college when I was 18 with a couple of tatty IT qualifications. I had the knowledge and intelligence to do much more but I didn't care, I can build PCs, I can design websites to a high level but I don't care. I got the name Prophet given to me in college after I was attacked and I was set on fire, you read that right, set on fire. However, I put myself out and I had no injuries, no burns, no scars. My druggy friends said something along the lines of "you're like some sort of bible person man, a Prophet!". It stuck. My body's will to live stayed stronger than mine too, I've been set of fire, stabbed, run over and caught in a gas explosion. All apart from the stabbing left me with no injuries. No will to live, not allowed to die. I messed around for a year or so after college, odd jobs, sex, drugs and rock n roll. Then I got a job in a casino, croupier, dealing the games. The hours were insane but it was amazing, good people, good work, I'd lost about 40 pounds and I was happy. I started to save up to go on some travels plans that had been in my head for years, always wanted to travel. Finally happy, I'd made it out the other happy, will to live, body to live in. Everything was going great until July 2005. I was on a night out with a few friends for a birthday, I slipped on some wet grass and I fell at just the right angle to permanently damage my spine. Everything I've been through and I got taken down my some wet grass. Over the next couple of years I experienced the NHS, months of waiting for scans and eventually surgery. Over those years, I made several attempts on my life and spent one night cutting into my arms with a knife. Again, I tell no one of these things. Skip ahead to 2008. My injury effects me as follows, I can stand up straight and I can walk around, but it's very painful. I have constant leg pain as the spinal injury damaged my sciatic nerve. The government went on an anti benefits rampage and I was kicked off incapacity. I had to find work. I took an office job in Jan 2008 and I'm still employed there. I hate every single thing about it. When I first started, it was new and interesting, I made a good group of friends there but I soon realised I'm not cut out for the office life. Talked down to my people barely older than me who passed some mickey mouse school of management and think they are somehow better than me and they can talk down to me. I do my job and I do it well, but I hold no illusion, it's worthless, a monkey could do my job. I can't stand the office ways, the constant meetings, we spend more time talking about our jobs than doing them. Just leave me alone. It got too much for me and I lashed out, stopped caring, became enclosed and very blunt with my colleagues, my manager came to tears and took me off to find out what the hell was going on. I cracked, I just broke down I told her I don't want to be there or anywhere else. I was placed on the employee assistance program and given 5 therapy sessions, they were interesting and they were gone. All you get is 5. Then I had to take it up with the NHS. I was diagnosed with severe depression and red flagged and a serious danger to myself. I had a few therapy sessions and was placed on anti-depressants, they did nothing. I'd become a shell, just going through the motions, waiting to die. Then it got worse, my dad become ill. We thought he'd had a stroke, it was cancer, lung, brain and lymph. I helped him around the house, the brain tumour caused stroke symptoms, he fell a few times, lost mobility. I got him a wheelchair and I took him to Christie's. I divided my time between him and making sure my mum was ok. It was hard, he was and is, the strongest man I've ever known and there I was picking him up off the floor because the paramedics couldn't. He still wouldn't quit smoking, it's hard to wheel your dying father outside a hospital for a cigarette, but I understood, he knew what was coming even if we didn't and at 63, he was ready to go. October 7th 2009. My dad had been taken into a hospice for a chest infection. I spent that day with him, then my mum came after getting home from work. He was bad that day, she decided to spend the night so I went home to get something to eat, said I'll see you tomorrow dad. 8:45pm, I got the call from my mum, he's on his way out. I damn near crashed my car driving to that hospice. I was maybe a minute too late. He was gone. After that I lost a few other family members and my cat over the next year or so. It's just me and my mum now, she's not much better off than me mentally or physically, she told me about around our first Christmas without my dad and she was going to just go out in the snow and sit down. I've been up and down, ignoring work's bullshit and just doing my job and going home, trying to lose weight, I went to the gym and I took up martial arts. I study a system of Shaolin Kung Fu. I guess I pushed too hard. A few weeks ago my back went out, the regular right leg pain I've had for 5 years is now left leg pain and pins and needles. GP has sent off for another MRI scan and I maybe looking at surgery again, it might as well be 2005. I don't think I can go through it all again. All I think about now is suicide, I'm signed off work by the doc, in my head all the time are images of my own death, I can't sleep, I just go over it again and again. A few days ago I started cutting into my arm again, no one knows about that, I hide the wounds. I saw this forum while searching about self harm as I don't really know why I'm doing it. I figured I'd post my story, see what happens. It's a raw deal and I don't see why I should have to put up with it. I have a duty of care to no one, my friends and family will get by without me. Why shouldn't I be able to go, I fucked up my life and I want out. If life is a gift, I'll take a store credit. If life is precious, what will you give me for it? I know this is long and I thank anyone who took the time to read.