There's not. And there's no such thing as a good time to die either. I've been struggling with a host of crippling issues for over a decade. I've been hospitalized over seven times (that's where I lose count), have attempted suicide 4 or 5 times (hazy memory from that period), and then I went into 'recovery' for a whole two years! The thing is, I was just as miserable during 'recovery' as I was careening out of control, I was just doing better at conforming to societal norms. Well, about three months ago I started losing my ability to 'act normal' any longer; about a month ago, I started to slip; about two weeks ago, I lost all footing. Here I am again. And the thing is, the singular, wholly undeniable truth that I can aver is that, no matter what, I will always return to my mess like a dog to its vomit. I've had more therapy than I can stand, more treatments, experimental methods, drugs, and holistic approaches than I can name - for some of us, the way we are is a biological predisposition; an innate inability to function; an essential failure to thrive. Natural selection is screaming like an umpire ove the bag: OUT! Well, I hear you, sir, and I concur. I don't even make sense anymore. I'm not gonna tick off my list of 'symptoms,' for me, they're sufficiently horrible to warrant my swan song. Yes, I know this final gesture will be the most selfish of my life, I've lived in its pseudo-wake and apologized unendingly to those who've already suffered from my destructiveness. But rhetorical question, this: What is worse? To perpetuate the frenetic cycle of destruction and hope, with the return to destruction always an inevitable conclusion, or, to rip the bandaid off in one swift flick, inflicting sharper pain over a shorter period of time? Don't answer that. I'm comfortable with my half-baked ideas. Anyway, I did try to reach out for 'help' again - but trust me, I've exhausted my resources, and, what's more, by reaching out, I realized, I don't want to reach out for help anymore. I don't want to keep living my death, I'll take it straight up, thank you. I was asked if I had a plan, and I answered candidly, smiling, "Don't you mean, which one?" Then I placated her by saying that, with my history, I don't need a plan, but I'm not holding any proverbial guns right now, so don't worry... Yeah, that's tidy. I can get what I need at a moment's notice. Maybe tonight is my moment. Oh, please.