Maybe this should be on the "let it all out" part of this forum. I've been thinking about suicide since I was 14...I'm 24 now. There is a history of suicide in my family. When I was 18 I had my first suicide scare, and had a knife on my wrist but didn't cut. Then I went to University, and every once in a while I'd have another scary moment where I just felt myself losing control. Over the past 2 years, since graduating, I've just slowly been sliding. I met my first love in my last year of University, but we broke up after graduation because we are from opposite sides of the country, and because she was concerned I wasn't part of her religious group. Her and I stayed in touch for almost two years after we split up. She always said she really didn't like not knowing if I was ok, and I just liked having her in my life. Now- every single dating or relationship forum in the world says that it was a terrible idea for her and I to stay in touch. And they may have a point. But at the same time, she knew about my previous depression, mental issues, and suicidal thoughts. She was really worried about me, and I didn't think it was fair to not stay in touch. The problem was, however, that I wasn't ok. I was falling apart. She wanted to know if I was ok, but the best part of my day was walking across a bridge and not jumping off, or driving a car without being scared and starting to cry. So I basically covered up the truth when I wrote her (we wrote letters). I didn't lie, but I'd only ever talk about the good stuff. And in a way, this really helped me because in writing her I would focus on the good stuff. And, just to be clear, the bad stuff didn't have anything to do with her...it has to do with like massive sexuality questions, religious questions, just like..you know, the big huge stuff. And just the constant, unknowable, pain I feel. Anyways, eventually my cracks started showing. The sort of cheery tone of my letters became clearly false, but at the same time, I didn't have the guts to say "look, I'm seriously really scared, because I think of suicide all the time, and have set a deadline in my head (27 years old), where if I'm not out of this pain, I'm gonna kill myself." So us staying in touch eventually fell apart. I wouldn't open up, and my letters seemed false. I think se took this as a sign of manipulation in terms of getting her back. Now, I wouldn't be averse to her coming back, but my honest intention in writing wasn't to convince her to come back to me...it was just to try to ease her mind about how I was doing. And in that sense, i was lying to her, because I didn't tell her how messed up I actually was. But anyways, after two years of contact, and my letters now bordering on the uber-desperate in how cheerful and confident I was sounding, she said she no longer saw a point in staying in touch. Her saying that was kind of the needle that broke the camels back. My thoughts of suicide went from semi-frequent to frequent to constant in the course of about a week. From that point on, which has now been about 4 months, I've been thinking of how/where/and when I'm going to do it. It's not that I hate myself, or anybody else, I just feel in pain all the time. I don't know what I'm thinking other than I want these suicidal thoughts to stop, cause they are so painful, and I've been living with them for my entire mature life. Anyways- a couple of nights ago I was back with a knife on my wrist, just totally and completely numb, crying my eyes out. I mean, absolutely terrified. I felt like I was going to die. I've had a moment like that everyday for almost 3 months. I've emailed her in the midst of it. Most of them are just "please keep talking to me", but occasionally I've actually gotten to "I'm really messed up and I need help". And in the last few weeks, I finally got all the way to "I'm scared I'm going to kill myself." She doesn't respond, as she said she no longer wanted to talk to me, most likely due to the fact she lost trust in me because my emails were so pathetic. So, basically, I'm now the crazy stalker-ex who appears to be threatening suicide to get her back. This makes me feel ridiculous and awful, as I actually do really care about her. And thinking I'm some horrible stalker has made things a million times worse. I google "stalker" and now I feel like I'm a delusional abuser. It's made me feel just that much more terrible about myself. But the thing is that I'm not delusional about how scared I am, or how real the thoughts of suicide are, or how constant they are. And I've reached out to my parents, my friends, a therapist, and these internet forums for help. I dunno. I sometimes feel like the definition of stalker that I'm placing on myself would be similar to saying a guy who got hit by a car is a stalker for crying out for help to the person busy walking their dog. I know I'm bothering her, but honestly, I'm just reaching out to anybody I can think of. No one believes me, I guess. I feel like the only time anybody will take my cry for help seriously is when I actually kill myself. I don't know how messed up I am, or how close I am. All I know is that I'm on suicide forms, and that I'm thinking of suicide all day, and I'm talking to friends and family about it, and that I'm scared. That's all I know. I'm just totally messed up, and I'm even reaching out for help now, and whether it be from a therapist or a parent or a best friend or a suicide form or a past girlfriend whom I seem to be stalking, I just don't seem to be getting any better. I seem to be just more of a burden, getting worse and worse and worse the more I ask for help and try to stop thinking about suicide. I just feel terrible. When I try and help myself, when I cry out, I feel like I'm just abusing people. And not just my ex, but everybody. I feel I'm harassing them. I just can't believe how scary it's getting. I told her I wouldn't write again, and I swore to God I wouldn't, because I think I'm abusing her. And my best friend says I should think about pills but I really don't want to do that. I'm just starting therapy, so maybe that will help. I'm just scared.