Im new.

All I have is my phone. I have a room, a dying car, and my phone. I will talk to anyone who replies here. I don’t have MSN. I’m taking a chance. I can’t afford meds or doctor visits anymore. I’ve been trying to get it together enough to check myself into the hospital again. I have to try again. I have one person left that will give me a place to stay. I’m even messing that up. I’ll end up homeless if I don’t do something. I feel like I’m too far gone tho. Not giving a shit for 2+ years has taken a toll. I dread leaving my room. I doubt that I will ever be anything that remotely resembles the “old me” – In one 24 hour period I lost everything important to me. I mean EVERYTHING. Its almost comical. I wouldn’t believe my own story if I hadn’t been there for it all. I can’t type what has happened to me in the last 2+ years without crying. Crying leads to drinking for me. Drinking leads to driving around, hoping for a DWI, jail, and maybe some help. I actually thought a DWI was a good plan. I do dumb shit when I drink. When the constant pain, loss, regrets, fear,… are hovering over you all day, everyday, an escape, even a short escape is worth it. Alcohol is the only thing that does that for me. I get happy for a while. I forget what I have lost. It gives me a small window of relief. It also makes me lose all fear of ending this shit. I’m actually too much of a basket case to kill myself. I wont get out of bed long enough to hit the ATM, check the want ads, and get a gun. Drinking gives me that boost. I’m just waiting for that day when everything works out, the stars align…- I guess I’m afraid to get well. Feeling better might just give me enough ambition to try to end this shit again. Most of my prior attempts have come within a few days of a release from a psych ward. How is that even possible? I can’t stop thinking of suicide, and the meds that I’ve been on so far (20+)- always make it worse. There doesn’t seem to be an “easy” way to die. I’ve done my research. Coming up with a new way to die is the only thing that gives me some resemblance of comfort most days. Nearly all of them have some kind of glitch that I don’t want to deal with. Pills are impossible to get. Guns are certain, but violent and messy. I have started to think about who would find me. I don’t want to cause anyone nightmares. I don’t have those concerns when I’m drunk. I don’t know what will become of me. I’m going insane, and I know it. I can’t imagine shuffling around a ward for the rest of my miserable life. I can’t see myself overcoming the loss of everything that I ever loved. I guess I just want these thoughts to go away. Losing those thoughts might mean losing myself. The real me might be lost along with them. What have I got then? Suicide is just meant to be in some cases. I bet the majority of people can be helped. I don’t think I can.