I have been severely depressed and suicidal at least since I joined this forum almost seven years ago. Since then, I have really never sought out to get my condition cured. I have always felt that I am far beyond help, that I have ruined my life beyond repair and nobody can help me. I feel that I would only be wasting away my time and money on therapy, support groups, medication, etc. I have gone to meetings with support groups and doctors and then stop going after a few visits. The same with medication like Lexapro, Effexor and Prozac. I will take it for a few days and just stop cold-turkey. Why should I keep spending my time and emptying my pocket to help the drug companies for something that just cannot be fixed!? My dad has been the one to always pressure me to get help, but I resist him at every turn. If it weren't for him, I would never have sought help at all. Many times, I will try to pretend that I am happier so he thinks I am cured and will stop bothering me about seeking treatment. But I can only hide my pain for so long and it will creep up again and he will tell me to take medication and visit a doctor again. The cycle has repeated for several years now with nothing to show for it. Recently, my dad made me an appointment to see a counselor, but I canceled it at the last minute. I've already gone to counselors in the past, and stopped seeing them after 5 visits at the most. The same will happen here again anyways. I'd just have to retell my story to a new counselor, stop seeing her and all that effort was for naught and I wouldn't feel any better. I hear some cute words during a 45 minute talking session, and that is supposed to undo years upon years of severe damage upon myself inflicted by me and others? What a freaking joke. I feel confident that I am incurable, so why even bother with these things? I just want to wait for the time that I get so depressed, that I can muster up the "courage" to finally attempt and hopefully succeed at suicide. Its funny how I think that I am the only one who is incurable and everyone one else, on this forum and outside of it, can be cured of their mental illnesses eventually. I just feel that I am such a special case. I don't mean to sound pretentious, stuck-up and arrogant. I just think that having spent the majority of my life isolated from everyone else, living in my own "cave", missing out on so many things that everyone else has done, having a very empty and unfulfilled life, etc. how acn I be cured? The only choice for me now is death. There is nothing left to salvage. Even if there was, my depression won't let me pick up the pieces. My depression has hung around for too long, it has became a part of me, totally inseperable. It may only be gone when I finally get the "courage" to buy a gun and put a bullet into my head. I definitely think that medication and talking it out is helpful. I just feel its not for me, that's all. But I'm sure I am wrong and my depression is telling me all of this. My depression doesn't want me to kick it out. Its almost like a sentient being. Its made a nice, comfortable home in my head for the better half of a decade and it doesn't plan on going anywhere anytime soon. It has festered and gnawed at me for far too long. I can't get better, I might as well just finally attempt suicide, stop being a coward about this. I don't even know if I am worth curing at all. What hope does a long-term recluse like me stand in this harsh, cruel word full of normal people that I can never relate to and will never understand me?