Hi Splitimage... I recognise a lot of this. I haven't always felt that my life was truncated, I used to have periods of intense depression when I imagined myself living on and on and on, past the point where I could bear it, chittering away to myself like a dessicated insect, with nobody there to care. In fact, a great fear I had as a child was that I'd grow to be old, ninety seven or so, and nobody would love me. Then I grew older, and came to fear that nobody loved me anyway, and I was already there.

I've tried to kill myself three times, seriously I mean, and I'm lucky it didn't work. First time, no bloody bugger even noticed. I was throwing up and hallucinating for at least a week, they all just thought I had the flu. (I was eighteen at the time.) Then I took an overdose of aspirin. Then... well, I don't remember how it ended up.

Anyway... yes, I'm forty, I can't imagine my life. It's like a brick wall that I'm rushing towards, with no breaks. I'll slam into it at some point. I really want my son to be grown up and married first, with someone else to love him and steer him right.

My mother was just a few years older than me when she died... I don't look forward to be older than she was. I can't imagine it in fact. My Mum used to always say she'd kill herself, we never believed her. Nowadays, after my failed attempts, I say I'll never try again... but I do wonder. I think of death a lot. Or it thinks of me.