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Today has been a lovely day. It was David’s birthday and everyone has gone to bed tonight, content and happy with their day. So why have I just spent the past hour crying? Why as I lay down in bed to go to sleep does the thought of suicide enter my head. Not just the thought but an overwhelming desire to just end it here and now. Like it would be the perfect ending. I know what I’d do, I know how, so just do it. It feels like it’s the right time. I’ve watched and been involved in a day where Mum and David have been happy and enjoyed themselves.  I’ve loved seeing it. Seeing them happy. Seeing Mum happy. I know she’d be looked after.     I’ve text Christopher tonight, he’s happy too. He’s had a good day at work but we did miss him today. It’s not the same when he’s not there for a family celebration, but we’ll be seeing him tomorrow, he’s getting an award from the University. He’ll be ok too, he’s got his life sorted now. Settled in a job and a his own place. No doubt he’ll meet someone and settle down with his own family. He’ll be ok.    So just do it…It’s really hard to write this and not follow my head. It’s like it’s screaming at me, “What the fuck are you doing typing all this shit when you know what you want to do!? Just do it!”    But I’m not, I don’t know why I’m not. But I’m just typing instead. I know why I want to go with it…but not why I decided to do this instead. Maybe because I want someone to understand what it’s like at times like these. So that if even if after trying to type out the feelings, I go ahead with it anyway, someone might read this and at least know why.    It doesn’t matter how many times Mark tells me I can have the life I want, when I feel the way I do now. I can’t see it. I can’t believe it. When he says it I want to believe him, but a part of me just still feels he doesn’t understand enough and that if he did, maybe he wouldn’t think that way anymore.    I see everyone around me, Mum, David, Christopher and Mark build their hopes every time I start to do better. Start to seem to fight harder. But the truth is, when everything collapses around me like this. I haven’t stopped fighting. It just becomes too big to fight anymore. Every time I get so far, I get knocked back. I can’t keep being knocked back. I can’t keep on having to deal with these thoughts and feelings I get. I don’t want to. And so every time their hopes are built, I have to see the disappointment again when I can’t keep it going anymore.    I don’t want this life anymore. I was asked “If when you get to those pearly gates what would you rather have done, loved and lost or never loved at all”? But I would rather never have loved at all. I would rather a certainty. An end now, after a good day and to be able to believe that my family is happy enough to carry on without me. Rather that than spend the rest of my life in the constant fear I do now. Because that’s what it is. Constant fear. I’m forever listening out for the first raised voice predicting an argument, waiting for the next upset in the family, on edge for how long Mum’s good mood will last before she has a bad day. It’s a never ending list that I don’t want to get through. And as my life goes on the list will get longer. Lots of people say to me, you’re only 22, you’re so young, you’ve got loads of time to get the life you want. But I don’t see it as a good thing. I think, I’m only 22! I’ve got a whole life like this to get through.    If my family were to agree that if I wanted to, I could just take a drug that would kill me I would do it without hesitation. So what does that say? Does it say how unhappy I am? That I would rather that, than try and live through this in hope of better things? I honestly don’t know how many times I can be in this position, questioning whether to die or not and keep coming back from it.     I don’t think I can put anything else into words now. I doubt that I will have been able to explain these thoughts and feelings any better than I have before. What else can I say? When all it really comes down to, is that I don’t want to live anymore. I want an end to this life. So why have therapy? I’d hoped that something might come out of it. That it would have helped me change this way of thinking. I don’t know exactly what I was hoping for, I know there is no magic cure. I know no one else can do it for me. I think maybe I just wanted someone to understand and to feel understood. Thought that maybe just sharing the burden would ease it. That maybe talking these thoughts and feelings through would allow me to see through them and so weaken their hold over me. But now as I sit here after another episode of just wanting nothing more than to go to sleep and never wake up, I don’t hope for this anymore. I don’t believe things will change. I’ve really wanted to believe at times, but I just can’t now. There’s only so many times I can cope with the fall backs. The wife with the unfaithful husband will only give so many chances before they simply can’t trust them anymore. How many times can you ask me to put trust in something that just isn’t working. I think therapy now has just become something I find comforting. It’s nice to have someone to share these horrible times with who wont look at me with horror and think the worst of me. To have someone who appears to give a shit and does actually want to help. But again I feel guilty because in allowing myself to get close to someone else, it’s another person I’m going to hurt. Which then just makes me want to run. But then I’ll feel even more alone.… and so I don’t know what to do. Still here, still crying and still don't know how to get through this.