Amen to this. I feel so happy for people for whom therapy and/or medication has worked. But what about those of us with treatment-resistant disorders? What about those of us who have been debilitated by depression or anxiety for so long that we didn't develop properly? Some of us are inherently broken people, and I wish others could understand this.

I stick around for my parents. I've been told my maternal grandfather committed suicide before I was born, and it devastated his family. I have no direct experience but I believe that suicide impacts the survivors very badly. I won't do that to my parents, whom I love very much.

But once they're gone... Who knows. I know I should just enjoy this life to the fullest because it's the only one I get and there's nothing but oblivion afterward. But sometimes oblivion sounds so sweet.