My life is turning out to be %#@&#!. There's no one i can talk to that won't say "It's a tough illness" or "Hang in there" when I'm hanging from an itty-bitty white string that's about to snap. When everyone else is fighting life with their gleaming swords and shiny shields, I'm the village idiot with wooden weapons. Spare weapons that once decorated the wall of the saloon. I know we can't talk about suicide but...(don't mean to trigger)

It seems like I'm going through mild depression with suicidal thoughts (I won't discuss) despite being on a HEFTY dose of Lithium, the great anti depression med. It's all going to hell in a hand basket.