I don't know how to begin using this forum. I'm not even sure why I have chosen this as an option for myself. But I am so lonely I don't know what else to do. Even though I'm afraid to post this, I feel there's nothing else to do. I'm tired of being alone with what lives inside me. What lives inside me. That's the only way I can say it. I have dealt with my depression and trauma for many years with drugs, therapy, hospitalizations, etc. I manage it well. I'm used to dealing with it. I'm very high functioning. Have a career, advanced degree, active life, husband. But I feel like I live in a dark landscape, like the world is heavy on me, it reaches out and takes me, tears me apart and sews me back together again in a different way. As I drive or walk through the city, things seem to jump out at me and grab me, filling my head with images. My mind is filled with the morbid details of how buildings decay, how suffering is endured, how the living come to die, all in the most vivid detail. Sometimes I feel physically ill because I can smell a smell of dried bodily fluids that isn't really there, or imagine the sinewy popping of strained, deformed muscles, such that I can't even bring myself to eat. I see tall, dark, empty windows, wailing like broken mouths, full of the dessicated remains of their old inhabitants; dust, rotting wood, microbes, cracked paper, and paint caked hardware. I trod these landscapes over and over, they seem more real than almost anything else. I feel trapped and alone here. This morbid obsession, the fact that when someone asks me what I'm thinking about and 80% of the time the truth is too foul to tell makes me feel crazy. Insane. It hurts to always feel like something is wrong with me, that I'm just not right. Of course, this is just one side of myself. There are many other selves and identities within me, each with their various preoccupations. But this part of myself feels like a great black roaring, a scream that pierces everything. It's just more real than everything else, more authentic. I wish there was someone who could walk through the darkness with me and hold my hand. Suicide always comes back to me as an option, which I wish I could resist with greater strength. At least then I wouldn't be so alone.