Maybe if I had an answer as to why I'm here I would be willing to go through the motions to achieve whatever purpose was in store for me. But there isn't such a thing. I look at people, day to day, my friends, my family, random strangers, and I always wonder what IS it that drives them to live? Why don't I have some pie in the sky ideal of why its great to live? Why must I view this as some incredibly weird experiment going on in the universe? How come I even question why I'm alive when animals go through their entire life oblivious to the question? Why do I rarely have any deep feelings besides disgust, sadness, and futility from day to day? How is it that other people can be so kind and caring and be willing to fight to the death over me, and when I think if the roles were reversed, I would be so willing to let them perish? How can people who starve from day to day still want to go on? How can someone who works 12 hour shifts or more in a factory day in and day out want to continue it? How is this life so worth living that people put up with that? I understand what I'm saying is pessimistic, but I don't understand how I could be anything different. I often think I should get an award for the superb acting I do from day to day, just to keep everyone else placated, and to keep myself free from a nuthouse. I wonder if others feel the same way, and if so, maybe they deserve the award because they're so much more convincing than I. I do not desire to live, and yet I've failed to end this twice out of pure fear that the second I leave, I may come right back to do it all over again. I also wait for that 'right moment' to attempt the suicide, being any time not near a birthday or holiday.... obviously I do care for some people around me, but I just wish I could say goodbye and everyone just understand and let me go. I have dreamt of suicide since I was even a little kid... back before I even knew what depression was, and for the most part was an extremely happy and lucky kid. But there's always been that part of me that doesn't understand this world and why I'm here, and that part has grown beyond all the other parts now. Why is it that we fight so hard to live even a shitty life?