I'm in a state of homicidal anger right now and when I get this way my abject misery takes a back seat. And then my depression hits like a kamikaze appearing from the clouds. But 99% of the time, my depression, my self-loathing, my terror, my loneliness, my self-disgust, my fear, the abyss of sadness that I fall into; all of these things, in congruence of body and mind, create a debilitating despondency – more than misery, deep into the marrow of my bones, a pain that I wish would lead to my final breath.

Not only am I unable to see it, I can't adequately describe that pain. I've read snippets that others have written that I may think touches on or goes some way in describing a portion of that pain, but I don't believe that it's possible to offer a description that adequately describes that mixture of mental and physical grief and distress.

While I guess that I can accept that some people might need visual, outward scars to share (?) inner pain, I know that it's a greater agony for me to keep my pain inside and that accomplishes my goal of establishing ever greater punishment that I deserve.

But I don't think that I need to draw blood to see my affliction; I only need to look around at the clutter in my bedroom (which has only not degraded to filth because I allow my caregiver to clean once a week) for a visualization of what's going on in my head. And body.

Some of the photos on that website were very disturbing;

I didn't experience deep depression until my late 30's so I don't have any idea of what it's like to be a deeply depressed teen. Am I right in guessing that cutting is more common in younger women?

Ah, crap. Anger's fading... and guess who's coming to dinner?