Am I too proud to move back in with my parents… again? I think so. As soon as I left that house they put it up on the market. They’ve bought another place. I kept them there. I’m ashamed of that.

Now, She tells me she can’t afford to keep supporting me now. That’s true. I’ve helped drive her to bankruptcy and I can’t imagine being intimate with someone I’ve caused so much harm to. But even if I was to get it together for myself, she doesn’t want to live with me.

I’ve never tried to commit suicide. But today was so bad I took her pain pills and drank. I was knocked out for a while. It was not a suicide attempt. It wasn’t a cry for help. For me, it was the help.

I am a danger to myself. I am being reckless because I cannot stand the situation I am in. Unless she changes how she feels or a miracle occurs, on December 21, 2012 I will be homeless. And with that looming ahead of me, suicide IS an option I am considering. I cannot deny this fact. My life has not been, is not and will continue to be not worth living.

In the time I have spent with her, I have been mostly a burden. A pest. She described our relationship as “parent/child” and that hurt the most. It hurts because it is true. I am a child. I am ashamed.

I am ashamed of my whole pathetic life. This is not black/white splitting. I am a pathetic waste and certainly have been since adulthood.

My life is permanently damaged in large part due to an undiagnosed mental illness. I have BPD. If I had had the ability to make a suicide attempt prior, I would have gotten the care I needed, but I didn’t. A suicide attempt would be a long time coming.

This is where my life is headed and maybe it needs to be there. I need to just be a mentally ill homeless person for a while. This might just be what happens to someone with my condition who miraculously escapes treatment for so goddamn motherfucking long.