I'll try again. I'll try until I simply can't anymore. I had an interesting encounter from my past recently, and trust me when I say, it took a great deal of strength to not give into my baser instincts. 

At this point, depression, assuming I have it, is not the most important part of me. No one understands what it's like. How do I even say it without saying it? I want to kill myself, not because I hate life, but because it's the only thing I can do that will save it from someone like me.

You know that guilty feeling you get when you've done something wrong? Well, I don't. 

I know how to be a good person, but I don't know why it matters. I have very little, if anything at all, resembling a moral compass. 

I once promised myself that I would never be a slave to other's or their ideals. Like my parents, or almost anyone else I've ever known. I promised, and I haven't even lived up to my own expectations.

I've failed, even in my own eyes. The world wins again. I remain a slave.

I'm just gonna drink until I fall asleep. A temporary freedom. But what else is there?