When I was 11 I decided there was no point to living so I used a swiss army knife to slash my wrists. I had no idea what I was doing so I mostly made a huge bloody mess but no real damage to myself. My parents took me to the pastor of church for counseling. At 16 I got some sleeping pills off a friend and a bottle of booze. I chugged the bottle along with the pills. I was worried it wouldn't work so I went to my parents medicine cabinet and proceeded to swallow everything they had in it. I passed out on the way back to my room I guess and woke up after having had my stomach pumped at a hospital. That time they sent me to some inpatient factility for a couple weeks. They gave me different medicines but none of them did anything. I just started answering their questions the way they wanted so I could get out. After I was released my mom told me that if I had died she would have gone insane and couldn't live with herself. I told myself I'd wait until she was dead to do it right.

I'm 35 now. She recently passed away. I have a few things left to get in order and then I'll be killing myself finally. It's not that life is horrible really. It just is pointless. I've never had any desire to do anything. I never played sports. I've never had real friends. I'd get up, go to work, come home, eat, kill some time online, and go to bed. I've never taken a vacation. I've never really done anything. At my mother's funeral none of the family recognized me even because I've made no contact with them since I turned 18 and moved out on my own. I quit my job because I have more than enough saved for the time I have left. It's been several months and I haven't received one phone call. Really the only calls I would get were work and a weekly call with my mother. No one will even know I'm gone let alone care.