I have no idea where to turn at this point, and I stumbled across this website as I'm sitting here with a bottle of pills in my hand. I figured, "Hell, maybe someone will pretend to care." At the same time, I just want to know that someone out there even cares, because my life has completely fallen apart and I can't fix it no matter how hard I try. I just spent the last 20 minutes sitting outside waiting for some big truck or semi to drive by to hurl myself into. Something big so I would know that I would either be guaranteed a death, or at least crippled enough that someone can follow my will and rights to pull the plug if I wound up like that. No truck came. I'm sitting here, miles away from my home town and my family, pretending I'm any good at anything at all in college. I thought to myself, wouldn't it be great to do what I love? Get an art degree? Only now I'm realizing, after $60,000 of debt and no degree yet to show for myself, that I am no good at anything. I can barely do math, I've developed a stutter and can barely speak properly anymore to anyone, I can't remember history or any amount of science for the life of me, and now the only thing I love doing (drawing and animating), I've discovered I am absolute shit at and will never get anywhere with at all. I'm going to end up starving and alone on a street anyhow, so I figure, why not find a truck and hurl myself into it and get this shit over with? Except no truck came. I used to have a lot of friends I would talk to online, and my roommates were two of my best friends I've ever met. But I've, somehow, turned into a cynical asshole when a year ago I used to be pretty optimistic. It's bad enough that the two of them ran me out of the house for the past 20 minutes. I'm fairly lucky they didn't notice me grab the bottle of pills as I faked grabbing food to eat quietly in my room. No one will talk to me anymore, nor do they want to listen anymore. And I really don't blame them. I considered just going back outside even after they let me back in, because I know it's just going to happen again. But I spent 20 minutes outside, and am still here to show for it. Once again, absolute failure. No truck came. I used to have family that I could call every weekend and talk with, a father that was happy that I was getting further than him in life even if it was an arts degree, and a mother that was so very supportive of anything I wanted to do and wanted me to be happy. Now when I call them, they no longer seem excited to hear from me. They sound borderline annoyed that I'm wasting their time with my breath over the phone. I haven't heard an "I love you" from anyone in my family in the past 6 months, then they used to always try and make that perfectly clear. I don't know what I did wrong to deserve even my family hating me, but they do. I wish I could go back home so I could jump in front of traffic there, or maybe even a train since we lived so close to the tracks, but I fear I would get the same failed result. No truck would come. So I sit here, bottle of pills in hand, writing out a letter to some anonymous group that I don't know. I feel some sort of small relief that I'm able to get this out in text and off into the Internet, even if no one ever reads it. That's what my life has become, anyhow; a pile of words that don't amount to anything and won't be heard by anyone anyway. But on the off-chance there IS someone on the other end of this email account, I've got only one question: There are< edit mod total eclipse method > Why shouldn't I just get to swallowing? Because the world has turned me into something that no one wants around anymore. I'm holding in my hand a bottle that will remove every bit of worry and problem that I've caused, and I'm fairly confident not one single tear will be shed in my memory. I'm a waste of space, a waste of money, and a waste of time. I'm done. If you read this, thanks for at least being one of the last people on this planet to recognize that I exist. Maybe if there is an afterlife, you'll find me, and we can sit down and talk. Maybe for some dark humor, you can drive up to meet me in the afterlife in a truck. Because not a single one came to my rescue in the real world.