I tried to kill myself a year and a half ago. After I got out of the hospital, it was easier than it is now to be hopeful. I could think about the future, imagine the sky was the limit. I could reinvent myself completely. I could forgive myself for the things I used to say and the way I used to be. But…a lot of time has passed since then, and in so many ways I’m not different, and I’m not better. I still feel completely alone most of the time. I still haven’t really found a place in life I belong. I don’t have any friends I can be myself around. And…I’m losing hope that things will ever change. I’m starting to think that maybe this is the way I’m meant to be, sad and lonely forever. The only thing that’s keeping me going right now is my boyfriend, but he’s hardly been making any time for me, and right now is when I need to see him and hold him the most. I’m thinking about breaking up with him because it’s so painful waiting and never being sure when I’ll be able to see him next…I love him and he loves me, but I guess that isn’t enough, sometimes. Anyway, aside from him, pretty much the only thing stopping me from killing myself is the fact that my parents are alive, and that I live with them. There’s no way I could ruin their lives like that–that would make my actions unforgivable. Honestly though, I wish my parents didn’t care about me…I wish I had no ties in this world at all, because then I would have no obligations, no reasons to live. All I want is to leave this world forever. Life seems so surreal to me…as if I’m living in a dream 24/7. Nothing makes sense; some people suffer a lot, and some people suffer much less, and so much of that is luck of the draw. It’s not just not fair; it’s surreal, to me, and it makes me believe that nothing happens for a reason. That there’s no meaning in life…that’s it’s all just a cruel joke. What makes me saddest is that there are some people whose entire lives are very painful (not talking about myself) without any relief from that pain. How can I live in a world where some people suffer without end? How can I have faith in a world like that? And how can I have hope that I will get better and be satisfied–not happy–one day, when some people never are? I have things to live for, but they’re not things I chose to live for. I live for my family, because I have to. I live to avoid killing myself, because I’m afraid I wouldn’t be successful. Why can’t I find a real reason to live, something of my choosing?