First post, so bare with me… Background: I have anorexia, bulimia, panic disorder, depression, insomnia, agoraphobia, and am just generally a bad person (yes, really). And general loneliness, and nothingness for life. Well, yesterday, I tried to change that. My second attempt since I was 15 (i'm 19 now). I drove 30 miles to find a "decent" field to end my life in, took enough pills to kill a horse (or so I thought), and lay down. And waited. And waited. And waited some more. (with tears streaming down my face because it just shouldn't have turned out like this.) I'm here, awake, 11 1/2 hours later after sleeping in a wet field, feeling sick, with stomach pains, confused, angry, alone. Isn't it just the biggest slap in the face when you open your eyes to find your back in the place where you've worked so hard to get yourself out of? The place that;s caused you nothing but suffering and pain since you were four years old. And now its sunday morning, and I have no idea what to do with myself. (And for the record, I refuse to take myself anywhere near a hospital, thanks to the kind Accident and Emergency doctor who told me days ago to "go home" and to "stop wasting valuable time" because there is "nothing anyone can do for you here") Or anywhere. Obviously. I do not belong here So why the F*ck am I back where I started?