Today I can’t focus. I sit here, looking at this report I have to write, and I can’t form a complete sentence. Well at least a complete sentence as far as work goes. It’s hard to keep from crying. What do you do when you want to cry so badly but you are surrounded by people. Every day it seems to be like this. Every day I wake up and just try to make it through the day alive, without crying. Every day is a struggle. I’m so exhausted. I don’t want to go on. I want to die so badly. No one knows, not in my non cyber world, not someone who cares enough to call me up or visit me. I sit here pulling at straws as to why I even want to stay alive. I come up empty; well except for the fact that I pull in money that allows us to pay bills easier. But I’m sure every one could get by without me. After all, dying is a consequence of living; every one does it at some point. Everyone would get over my death, and fairly easily I’d imagine. I’m a nothing to everyone. I have a counseling appointment on Wednesday. I’m tempted to have it be the last one ever. I know I say that so often I feel like there is no point in going on. I’m not going to get better. I realize that now. It’s so hard to go in there and talk. I don’t know if I will ever be able to get close to another human being, even a counselor. I was so close to my counselor in grad school. I tried to tell her everything. Then came that day when I had to say good-bye. I can write, but she won’t respond. She never wants to see me; it would make her feel uncomfortable to see me. I read that email over and over, like I want to hurt myself. Went from staying alive mainly because of her; to never being able to see her. All in one day. I used to read the letter that she gave me at our last session. Now it’s too painful; and I’m not really sure I believe it anymore. I don’t want to go through that pain again. I don’t want to put my heart on the line just for it to be trampled on … again. What’s the point in opening up if you know the end outcome? I’m scared. I look around and realize just how few people care whether or not I live and wonder if I will make it through this alive. And even if I don’t, what does it matter? Life just seems so frustrating all the time. I get up go to work, am gone for 12 hours a day. I am exhausted, but every doctor keeps blaming it on depression. I’ve had so many tests that I just wish one of them had been positive for some treatable disease. Something where they can say here take this and you will feel better. It’s been so long since I’ve felt "better". Where I could wake up in the morning and say I’m glad I woke up. It’s almost scary thinking of a life like that. Where people loved me. Where I was really happy instead of having to spend my time pretending to be happy.