The onslaught of pain and fear flooded every sector, burning everything, killing everything. There was no reasoning with it, no dealing with it and by God no relief from it. I decided to crash my car and disappear. The system collapsed before I even got the chance.People love to point out that the intent of suicide doesn't count as an attempt. These people obviously have never crossed the Line in the Sand, the Point of No Return, that strange Serenity that comes over you when you step outside yourself and walk away. There where times when I came close, when suicide was idealized in flights of fancy but even then I was still in the land of the living. This time was different. I hope you never truly understand why. Second Edition Notes:Found this little bit of text in the back of my hard drive from when I wrote this section.$%#@&$ this is so frustrating, trying to cram hell in a tiny box for reading. I’ve been sitting here for three days trying to get the right mix of words so I can convey the destruction, the chaos, the absolute futility of my last few days. It all sounds so corny and overdramatic like some soppy screen play but I’m telling you it was real. Everything burned down, and when you went to dowse one thing three other things caught fire. It didn’t seem so bad at first, but it just kept going and going, there was no rest, no time out. You couldn’t go watch TV and come back to it. It was always on your ass like a rabid monkey, everywhere. I mean I’m not weak but after years of this you just lose it. What’s the point, right? When no one believes you and talking it out doesn’t work and you can’t get medication because you aren’t old enough to have your own insurance, death starts looking pretty good. It sucks, it sucks a lot, but death isn’t about choices. Its about...I still don’t know what it’s about...