I look kind of happy, and try to keep a straight face most of the time. But, in reality, everything seems meaningless and, aside from my girlfriend and what I'm studying (genetics), I can't think of a single thing that excites me enough to get out of bed.

So that lack of motivation kind of bleeds into everything else. I regularly go 1-2 days without getting out of bed (and, by extension, without eating or bathing). Even though my studies (I'm at uni) excite me, I can't motivate myself enough to even open a book and do exercises or anything of the sort. I just... passively attend lectures.

And everything hurts. Not physically, so much. But - when I can think about something, everything is painful to think about... the future, the past, the colour of my curtains, the lamp next to my bed, my family, my desk, everything - because every single thing I think about starts off a train of thought that never stops. I've never understood how people can "just relax and think about nothing". I can't stop thinking. I hate it. It's paralysing, and it's infuriating when everything is meaningless and bland, but also painful and explosive, as well as empty, sad, and worthless.

Once in a while, I'm able to fake it enough to get out of the house and talk to people, and that's how people see me. But it's all fake. They think I'm busy and outgoing; I'm just a lazy fuckwit who can't get out of bed.

On top of this, I feel horrible for even caring because - why the hell should I? There are people who can't even afford an education and don't have a family... I should just get off of my arse and do something, but I don't know how to. Nothing has worked.

I can't deal with this anymore. I present a calm, collected(ish) facade but I don't know how longer I can manage. I go see a psychiatrist once a week, and an currently on 3 different medications. I'm just so... I don't know how to describe it. So - tired. That's it. I'm just so tired of everything, of making myself get out of bed, of living, and, most of all, of not being able to control my own head.

I've attempted suicide once (swallowed all my medication and sleeping pills - oh, yeah, I can barely sleep either - along with about 5/8 of a bottle of Bailey's, which I only picked because I like the taste), and ended up in the hospital. Thanks to this country's brilliant healthcare system nobody knows, but I don't know when I'll do it again. Honestly, the only reason I'm not is lack of motivation and effort - if I lived in America, I'd drive right up to a gun range or gun store and do it then and there. But I don't even have the effort to commit suicide. GG, me.

I don't know how to deal with this anymore.