I´m supposed to support other people, I am supposed to be saving life. It is my job, I am a doctor. But I want to take my life. I love my work, and it is the only stage at which I cope. The instant I am alone, the pain festers and spread. I could easily get what I need to kill myself, but I know that it would hurt the people I love. I know that whoever finds a suicide victim will be scarred for life, especially if it is someone they know. I want to die, but my concern for others keep me here. I see sick and dying people every day. Still I wish I was the one dying. It would be such a relief to disappear. I don´t really have time to be sad. I am spending so much energy keeping others up, my best friend and her difficult relationship to a married man, my ex boyfriend and his manic- depression, and the psychosis brought on by me breaking up with him. I do not have time for grief, it has all been stored away until I have time. But I never have time, so now I am waiting for the true breakdown. So far it only comes when I am alone, I am the happy optimistic girl I have always been. Successful. But deeply unhappy. Tonight I have made a new scar, and for the moment it has satisfied my hunger for real pain. To be allowed to feel anything, to have a taste of all those feelings I have repressed. My life is not over. My life has just stopped. I am not living, I am merely alive. I don´t know what I expect from this. I just needed to vent a little, to release some of the steam building up. I needed to buy some time. So I came here. Thank you all, just by being alive, and even without replying to my post, you have helped me.