Sometimes, I have trouble believing that suicide is never an option. And once again, just the other day, I found myself considering suicide as a viable option because of a laundry list of reasons. First of all, I don’t have anything in my life to fall back on. I don’t have anything to throw myself into in order to dull the pain and help me forget-for a little while at least. In particular, my job prospects are bleak, as they have been for quite some time. There’s no way to sugarcoat it. Taking a brutally honest look at my life, I realize that I haven’t any prospects for any kind of career in the near future, for instead of a resume, I just have a list of low paying jobs over the past decade. All I’ve been doing is just drifting from one to the other. To make matters worse, I’ve burned many bridges over the years because of my at times impulsive nature. Then of course there’s my personal life, or lack thereof. I’m a complete recluse nowadays because of the anxiety and accompanying depression I’ve suffered from for so long. They have thoroughly destroyed any chance at any kind of normal life. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been on the outside looking in. For the longest time, it was incredibly painful, but now I’m just numb, because in order to survive, I’ve become adept at suppressing my emotions. Now it’s gotten to the point where I feel so cold and distant that I wouldn’t even know how to rejoin the human race so to speak. So, basically what I’m saying is that I feel like a failure in nearly every way imaginable, both career wise and socially, so much so that my underlying desire to be a woman is the least of my problems. Don’t get me wrong though. I’m not feeling sorry for myself, nor is this a desperate and juvenile bid for attention or some kind of cry for help. It is none of the above. This is a dispassionate and honest assessment of my life, and after performing this assessment I realize that if I chose to, I would have every right to end my life. After all, everyone has their breaking point, and now that I’m approaching my thirty-fourth year on this Earth, I feel I am nearing the end of my rope despite my best efforts. I’ve given it the old college try and then some, but I’m running out of reasons to continue this existence. Continuing to live because it would upset a few family members if I killed myself is about the only reason I have left to cling to, and clearly that’s not a strong enough reason to endure a life that has been reduced to a mere existence. I don’t know how much longer I can continue living in this box I feel trapped in. I don’t know how much longer I can continue to play a game that seems to have been rigged from the beginning. And I’m not sure if I can make it through the rest of this year without turning my suicide fantasy into a reality. All that being said, I’ll try to resist, at least for the rest of this year. Anyway, for those of you who chose to read through to the end of this depressing summation of my life, thanks for listening. I had to tell someone.