I think about killing myself all day long.
And nobody on earth wants to hear it.
I'm afraid. I'm unhappy. I don't know how to improve my life.
I want to die. I love my son. But I want to die.
It's been a minute.
Since last post, I've divorced, found a boyfriend, moved twice, started college, gained 50 pounds, and other neat stuff.
I've started running again.