I'm still suicidal, living mostly as a recluse, isolated, overweight, without a job, a community, a belonging to anything, a home, an income, a profession, any prospects, hope for the future, no friends, no boyfriend, no prospect of meeting a boyfriend (I'm 32 and not sufficiently attractive or affluent in the area in which I currently reside, have never been asked out on a date), am not on good terms with my family (nor have their respect), am not respected in this society (and likely others, not having done anything interesting or important or worthwhile with my life), uninterested in the shallowness of this society, cannot find a single person with whom to have an intelligent conversation, and no one who values, admires, or respects me, or deems important or worthwhile my thoughts and what I have to say, or finds me attractive, or appreciates me for who I really am. I think suicide is inevitable, but would like to chat with someone who might relate for a different perspective. I'm disgusted with myself (but for the depth with which I think about various intellectual topics, which is unappreciated and undervalued), how society views me, and very tired of trying to become the sort of person that is respected and appreciated in this mindless, classist, discriminatory culture. My only window into the world is the internet, through which I can only hope to achieve a more worldly perspective or connect with someone, yet cannot. I'm alone and deemed worthless by the people who live around me, deemed worthless by friends and family, not valued for everything I've worked for and pursued up until now. I am perpetually disliked by people for a variety of reasons and cannot talk with anyone about my thoughts. I feel that my life is over and that no one sufficiently cares about ensuring that I stay alive in any meaningful way. I've tried to connect with people over the internet, but to no avail. No one is meaningfully interested in a stranger discuss her possible suicide, or about the details of my life, or my thoughts and feelings. My talents are underdeveloped and No one is interested, nor takes interest in me. I'm invisible, without consequence, and an embarassment to my neighborhood, in which I do not belong. There was a time when I thought that I was a good writer, which is clearly not the case any more, since I apparently have no writing skills or a good vocabulary, and have the prose of a 20-year-old, due to the way in which I had to speak with the members of the community of the uneducated, non-literate, unevolved, provincial town in which I grew up.