Sometimes

I'm a little bipolar... or maybe a lot, I don't know. I've got some serious, real-life situations that are making the possibility of being homeless a very real thing. And, while most of the time I'm able to buckle down and fight for those interviews that could save my hide, the truth is that I feel it a bit too much from time to time, especially when I'm alone.

At times like these I want to die. Worse still, I plan my death. I know, in exacting detail, how I'm going to end my life before I end up tossed out on the street. I'm not sure if I really will go through with it, but I'm terrified that I will. With each passing day hope is just a little harder to hold onto. The pain is slowly building to the point where I no longer have the ability to cope with that pain.