It hurts all the more returning to this suffering - alone, helpless, sad, suicidal - after working so hard to get out of it and try to become ‘normal’. I’m pretty sure I have manic depression. The highs are so high and the lows are so low. I can’t trust myself. And I can’t trust anyone else because nobody has offered me genuine understanding and support. Nobody cares in this cold, dehumanising world. People think I have it good because I’m young, sociable, attractive, independent, intelligent - but the truth is I’m a crippling mess who somehow has the ability to put on a convincing mask to the world. People like to deny and reject my feelings whenever I become a little vulnerable because they can’t comprehend that I have it bad. I feel like the loneliest person in the world - even though I know this is catastrophic thinking, that’s just how I feel. There’s a lot of comfort in thinking about my death - I like to just sit with it sometimes.