Since I was 14 or 15 I’ve detested living, but for the most part I’ve hung in there for other people. I tried back in 2000 (and obviously failed) to overdose on xanax. Apparently, I didn’t take enough. When I woke up I was PISSED. I ended up in the hospital for 3 weeks. The last several years of my life have been as far from positive and happy as it can get. Lost my job and after living in another state for 16 years I had to move back in with my parents because I have NO money left. My father will not speak to me because he is ashamed of my depression and all he does is judge me. The last 3 men I dated I knew before dating them (2 were good friends before) and they all screwed on me, the last one who should have known better considering he told me I was his best friend, especially took the last bit of my soul and destroyed it. So now at 44 years old I’m unemployed and living in my mothers living room. Way to go! I’m back at “home” after being away for 16 years and I feel more alone than I ever have. I’ve got a plan and a huge stash of pills. I’ve picked out my headstone, epitaph and casket. I found this epitaph online and it suits me to a tee: Smart Humorous Irrelevant Tormented. SHIT. I’m done. I’m not doing this anymore. I’ve had enough SHIT in my life and it’s time to say goodnight for once and for all. I’m done living for the sake of others. People say that people who take their lives are selfish. I’m sorry, but I think people who guilt those who’s lives they don’t understand nor can relate to in any way are the selfish ones. If they understood how I’m anxious 24/7 and how there is absolutely no point to my being here, maybe they would get it.