I don't feel connected to anyone. I just feel this empty pit. In my head and feelings, no-one gives me what I really need and all they do is suck things from you, are untrustworthy or incompatible. I feel a horrible misfit in this world. That everything is hopeless and inaccessible because I can't grasp how to play the rules of the world to do decently in the game it is. It is out of my reach and I feel like an undesirable reject in it. I suppose you do have to have the losers, so that the winners have something to measure themselves by but that is only a fleeting consolation. Suicide keeps on playing about on the edges of my thoughts. I want my problems to be fixed and suicide is the only way out I can see and I am too depressed and fearful to even do that. I download how-to books on suicide. I think about it a lot but can never find the surefire resolution. I get very bad times where the black hole that is a black quicksand sucks me in and I'm on a sharp edge, consumed with my situation. The black fuzziness pollutes each thing I focus on, like tar, cloudy around the edges. I feel stuck, impotent, powerless and many other negative things. Years of not getting the things I need has broken me down and I don't have the energy or motivation any more to even try because I need to be valued more when I do try. The being unable to feel connected to people means that I'm in a wasteland. I now literally don't interact with a single human being offline apart from brief transactions in shops or on transport for months a time. Depression is a curse. I wish I had the energy and up and go to do things and be productive like so many seem to be able to do. I have problems like a serious congenital disability, but so many others with my disability are able to connect with and feel connected to people and so get along in the game of life, so I'm not sure it's a real excuse. It's just combinations that conspire to make life sucky for me. It is a cold world, the wintry blue glass of ice cracking on me. My veins are frozen and the starlings sing without me in this bleak white sky. The blood in me will flow when the fire in me is able to burn and eat free, devouring and blazing bright. This - this is just a prison. My blood is frozen. I have no escape.