I'm wholly confident I need help, serious help. And I want it, too, despite not being all that in-tune as to what 'help' is. Unfortunately in a cruel ironic sort of way one of the reasons I need help happens to render me incapable of seeking it out in a headstrong manner; I have the inability to allow myself to be wrong, I am incapable of allowing that opportunity to occur. Despite my confidence and desire for help, I couldn't stand to be wrong about needing help, or worse, for anyone not to believe how serious it is for me and rendering some assistance. Even in that I fear asking on others to do so. I've always been the 'smart one', the one who surely gets straight-As, never studies, and doesn't sweat over any test; ever. Yes, admittedly I do very well academically and take great interest in learning and do so without much stress, but I've never cared enough to apply that all the time, I always feel like it really doesn't matter since I'll end my own life before it can make a difference. I regret this, so much, more than anyone can imagine, and yet I continue to do it. If it wasn't for my apparent, and in that I mean I go to lengths to ensure this seems to be the case, intelligence, I can't imagine I'd be around. It is the single only thing keeping me from being wholly isolated, almost the only thing I live for is to learn and to teach others because it makes me feel like at least somewhere along the line I mattered, I made a difference to someone and someone is thankful for what I've provided, and maybe remembers me once every while. Either way, I think this critical pillar in my life has lead to the development of this inability to be wrong since it would, or could, undermine so much of what I consider to be me. Furthering my apprehension is my desire not to disappoint anyone, especially those few somewhat close to me; family. With not having any friends to speak of, the loose relationship there is strongest. If I sought help and it wasn't taken seriously, well, I'd imagine this would be an apparent disappointment, or perhaps even if it was taken seriously. Chiefly I would attribute this to the stigma, which I admittedly buy into often. Being the only son of the family with 3 daughters, I feel I am supposed to be one of the strengths. With this matters are made worse given that I'm gay, and no one else knows. Other than my simple lack of any relationships whatsoever thus far, it isn't so much as hinted at. How am I, the only son, supposed to be gay? How is that OK? I really worry about how my father would take it, he has told stories about how excited he was to finally have a son after two daughters, and I think this would undermine that, as if the consistent desire to end my life doesn't. My goodness, what the hell am I going to do. I'm done ranting in this semi-random pattern, for now. I'm glad to just have typed this out, I used to do things like it in word documents and the like and knowing someone has perhaps read it makes me feel, well, someone more better. Plus the more I write the more I feel I understand about myself. Thanks for said opportunity.