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BA, I’m sorry to read this from you, I really am. I wonder if you’ve seen a psychiatrist and/or are taking meds. I am (Celexa and Wellbutrin). I literally couldn’t live without them. Of course, if you don’t know why you’re so depressed I certainly can’t tell you. Sometimes it helps to just forget “chasing the whys” and accept that yes, at this moment, you’re feeling depressed. Note that there is a difference between feeling depressed and being depressed. The latter adds weight to the problem and the former acknowledges that the feeling while likely ebb and flow like most feelings. So, what to do? One thing that I and others have found helpful is to consider what you would do if you didn’t have this issue, you free of the pain. Consider brainstorming with yourself, write down your ideas, and as time passes you’ll think of more. Write those down too. Then consider what you can do now. Do it or at least get started. Hopefully that will reduce some of your stress and depression.

I'm not happy. I don't mean I'm having a bad day. I mean in life all around. I don't get it either. I have all my needs met, and several luxuries. So what's wrong with me? I have someone in my life that (hopefully) loves me. I have food in my house, clean water, a roof over my head, and clothes on my back. So what's missing? I've always hated life. That much I know. For as long as I can remember, I've said "I don't know who I pissed off to deserve being here, but I'm sure as hell gonna make sure to not do it again." I've always seen life as a curse. Suicide is pointless. Knowing my luck, I would just screw that up and end up a quadriplegic or something that would only make everything worse than it already is. Is misery the gift I was given at birth? If so whoever gave it to me can have it back. And the horse they rode in on. I'm probably viewed as whining in this post, but I really don't care. I don't even know where I'm going with this. Or even IF I'm going anywhere. I'm just venting and trying to figure out why I'm so unhappy. I look around and quite frankly, I have more than a lot of people. I have no explanation. At least none that I can understand. Am I too greedy to be happy? Am I too selfish? Am I the type of person who always has to have more? I've never thought of myself as materialistic. I'll admit that I'm greedy, but I fight that as hard as I can, simply because I despise greed. It's one of my millions of flaws. And it's on the top 10 list of the ones that I can't stand about myself. So what do I want, a cookie? How about a foot in the ass? Whichever. I don't care anymore. I can't care anymore. That's an ability I lost a long time ago. Adrianne and I are fine as far as I can think of. We're not having any real problems at the moment as far as I know. Sometimes, however, I think the relationship has run its course. Then I think in the next instant that I couldn't live without her. My brain is twisted up worse than a damn corkscrew. The emotional turmoil going on in my mind is killing me. I feel like I'm dying. Like my body and mind are shutting down and just waiting for the right time to flip that switch from on to off. So what do I do about that? Tell it all to bite me? Put on a steel toed boot and give it a kick in the teeth? Or beg it for mercy? I've always hated myself and everything about me. I'm a cutter and watching the blood run is about the only thing that gives me any relief. Typically I rub salt into the cut. The burn is relief. I've always known that I'm a masochist. I kinda had to be. But as long as I have some form of relief in the cutting, it's all good. Sometimes I get drunk. Sometimes I get high. But cutting releases a lot more. But WHY?