This depression is like cancer… though there are times I wish it were that instead. These last few weeks with so little sleep seem to stretch on forever. I am lost in this world. I am drowning myself and I don't even know it. I feel unstable and my best friends are suffering because this stupid lost soul cannot control this disease. I spent a long time in the shower yesterday evening. I sat and cried in the shower for what seeemed like an hour. I just sat there naked, wrapping my arms around myself wishing for death. Times like these I am glad I don't have much medicine around. Times like these I know why I despise the thought of having a firearm or even razor blades in the house. Though the pocket knife I own that's just inches away from me now is tempting, I am at least grateful that I decided not to have it resharpened. Least it makes things difficult everytime I try to cut myself with that thing. But how long will it be before any of these precautions won't matter. I sometimes think all this shit is just brewing cancerous cells inside me. I don't want this life i think… it pisses me off how simple of a fix it could be if I just pretend I'm alright or something. I hate how this depression just takes it all away. I hate how my psychiatrist told me this is just an illusion that this is just a fucking chemical imbalance and all I felt is just a lie. This pain and all these thoughts are mine. I am alive, aren't I? Why would they tell me otherwise. Why can't I just live… why couldn't I had died that day…. why did they have to resucitate me. It's wrong of me to go back to that and I know that… I don't even know anymore. I guess deep down… subconsciously, I am only writing because I just want to say please someone save me.