Well....I'm giving up. I just don't have that "cherry pie in the sky" feeling anymore. I do what I am supposed to do, and there are good times here and there, but I am an utter failure to myself. I am sure that is all my fault and has nothing to do with anyone else with bipolar or any other mental illness. I am just a failure, a waste of space. Really, I should not have ever been born. I just realized the other day that I am 39 years old. I do not have ONE picture of me when I was happy or in a good space. There is no previous me that I want to get back to. My life has always been crappy. It started with the sexual abuse by my father at four, to sexual assaults as an adult, abusive boyfriend, abusive girlfriend, OCD, bipolar, PTSD, borderline, fat, ugly, useless, worthless, you name it. I have never been someone I am proud of. Not once. Not once in 39 years. I wish I could say that I accept myself and my quirks, but I can't. I have lived too long in this shithole of a body in this putrid place. I wish I were like some of you. But, obviously I am no where near as good as you guys are. Which goes back to what I have thought and said all along. I am a waste of space and I wish I would just cease to exist. I wish I was dead.