…but my survival instinct is too strong. i miss my mum. she died slowly and painfully, over the course of 7 years from MS. i miss childhood. my dad gambled away mine and my brother’s inheritance and family home—the only thing keeping my mental illness in check. i don’t want any of this. i hate adulthood. i didn’t even particular want childhood, but at least there was love at home. i’ve been aware of the desire to die since i was 11. i hope i don’t wake up tomorrow…but i probably will.