I haven’t always felt the way I do now. At one point, the only thing that crossed my mind was happiness; but that was long ago. In the last few years, I’ve suffered from bipolar depression and severe anxiety. There are things that bother me now, which in the past, they never would have. Every day I wake up and I realize that the only feeling I truly identify with is sadness: pure sadness. I’ve told the people I know that I have thoughts of killing myself every single day of my life, but I feel like no one actually listens to what I’m saying. This whole time, I’ve been asking for help. I’ve been asking for someone to save me, but nothing; nothing happens. I hate that I have to do this all on my own. It’s certainly not the easiest thing to deal with by yourself. Hating- no, despising your own body every single second, of every single day; that’s what I have to go through. Every day I glance at the bottle of medicine on my computer desk, but I have yet to use it the improper way. I have a baby to worry about and a little girl doesn’t deserve to go without her father. I think that my daughter is the only reason I haven’t given up yet. No matter how many people would miss me, the thought of my little girl is the only thing that keeps me from doing the unforgivable. I don’t know how much longer I can deal with these sensations or feelings. To be honest, I don’t know if I can make it to the end of the year or even the end of the month.