The day before, it happened again. I went to bed and thought about the pointlessness of living, and it felt awful. Now I'm in this state, again, where I shift between being mildly optimistic, feeling as if ending it all is the only reasonable thing to do, and in between the two, some sort of lack of concern.

Yesterday, I started on something I've been thinking about for several months. I took a 1 subject notebook and started writing my own eulogy, so to speak. Except it wasn't like "He was a caring individual who touched many lives, he never had an unkind word to speak of anyone," no, I wrote down some of the things I've wanted my family to know the most (And perhaps some others I've been in contact with in the past as well), but would probably be put in useless hospitalization again if I told them. Where they would ask me the daily questions like "Do you feel like you can be safe at home?" and I would of course lie my way out and say "yes," much the same way I did on the 3 times I was there before. And I did it because regardless of my life circumstances, I am independent as a human being.

The first sentence I wrote was "The most important thing of all is that there will not be a funeral for me." I am.....no pun intended.....dead serious about that! In this situation, it doesn't matter what I've wanted to be. I have not 'been there' for people. I don't even really feel concern for anyone, except for K, but that's just a false attraction that shouldn't even matter to me. I only care so much about her because my subconscious mind decided that she was 'the one,' and won't give up on that, in spite of the fact that I've known for 26½ months to date (Early September 2014) that she doesn't think of me in the same way.

Signing off for now, again.