I can't afford the medication and insurance won't pay for it, I am running out of ways to reach my doctor's appointments and have to cancel half of them, and I can't bring myself to even care. I mean, I should care, it's kind of important in order to get better.

I'm back at that point again, where being alone is the most dangerous time for me, but being alone is all I want. I'm back at that point where I see everything as an outlet to end my life. Where I obsess over it and obsorb myself in everything to do with it. I have to calculate out every possible option. And then, like a scientist, I feel the overwhelming need to test these theories.

I don't know why I do this, why I get like this. I can't seem to distract myself from the obsession because it's driven by my already existing depression and SI. In truth, I don't want to be alive and I don't know why I still am. Maybe it's the confusion all day that keeps me from doing something, I don't know.