I feel suicidal when the anxiety rises high. I start to remember all of my faults, my ugliness, my inferiority. I recall that no one has ever loved me like I have loved them. I recall that I am unorganized and unable to keep a handle on things. I recall that I procrastinate and deprive myself of sleep. I recall that I am unhealthy, and ugly. I've never had a true and lasting relationship, which isn't so bad. But the inexperience bothers me. The feeling of unrequited affection bothers me. It festers in me, makes me feel anxious and awful and insecure. That's how I begin to feel at night: insecure. And suddenly, the suicidal thoughts return. Nothing matters, and that usually comforts me, but sometimes it just makes me wish that I could turn off my life. I want it to end, and then I want it to last just to see what happens. I'm still a walking contradiction. It feels like nothing has really changed since I was depressed four, five years ago. Is that good or bad? I think I've managed to cope better, but when these moments return to me I feel awful. I feel like the worst person in the world, and at the same time, I feel so insignificant that it hurts.