Maybe Next Year

My birthday was at the end of last month.  I turned 59, but was very depressed to see the day come and go because I prayed throughout last year that I would die at 58.  I’ve had treatment resistant depression and PTSD for twenty years and I can’t articulate how tired I am of living.  On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 indicating a great quality of life, my life is about a 2.  And that’s only because I can walk, talk, see, hear, smell, taste and use my arms and legs.  It’s almost impossible for me to have any hope of things improving.  The main reason I’m still here is because of my 83 year old mother and my three cats.   Also, I know it’s never God’s will for someone to commit suicide, but I continue to beg for mercy, pity and compassion so I can escape this total misery.