"Fueled by Frustrations, Suicide Sinks In"

I imagine myself twisting up my bed shifts into a make-shift rope, tying them to the guardrail on the Jones Road bridge, and hanging myself over the creek.

Other days, I feel this urge to jump in fount of the cars speeding down Manchaca Road.

Or... do I poison myself by taking all of the prescriptions simultaneously. What is it like to die on a month's worth of Lithium?

There's even a thought to go to the gun shop, ten minutes away, and buy a gun.

So far, that's the extent of the ideations.

They're not constant, but they're recurring. I suspect they're fueled by frustration and failures. The first time that I attempted suicide, it was not a cry for attention; I wanted to find oblivion, to be done with this circus, to make room for those who seem to be succeeding...

I hate the places my brain can take me.

I hate the expectations that our society imposes on me.

On second sight, I would seriously consider escaping by running away to a monastery (with or without notice, depending on my mood) - all the above suicides seem to have a bit of pain and suffering involved in them.

So, yes, I'm a bit frustrated right now. When I look at the outsides, though, I'm actually not bad off. Yet, like some crazed addict, I want more... more money, more toys, more games, more food, more sex, more attention.

Yet, hearing myself talk, these last couple of days, I'm not too sure that I'm very pleasant to be around. Will you still love me, when I stink?

Sooo... that's me, reaching out in a third/fourth Facebook thread. I'll probably call somebody in the next couple of hours, because I strongly suspect that no one will call me.
(maybe this is all the result of too much caffeine? )