I (23f) was officially diagnosed with depression and BPD at 18 but it was suspected I had it in my early childhood. I’ve never really known what real happiness is. I’ve gotten really good at mimicking positive emotions so people don’t worry about me too much, but I don’t think I’ll ever actually get to feel those feelings. I think about doing horrible things constantly, I don’t do them but the thoughts are intrusive. I’ve done terrible things in my life and I can never atone for anything I’ve done. I wish I was dead but even death is too good for me. I fail at every aspect of life. I can’t hold a job no matter what I do, I run a basically failed business (my mom has to pay my shop rent because I don’t make enough money) I barely scrape together rent for my apartment every month. I disappoint my family, friends, and partner on a daily basis. Nothing I do ever seems to be enough. I’m a waste of space and of a life. Someone else was more deserving of this body than me, and I shouldn’t be here.