Well... where to start?

Probably, none of those present here knows that I, in the last ten years, have suffered greatly from bipolar disorder and the "bipolar depression" that is lamentable to it. And the situation is aggravated by the fact that now I have been found to have vegetative-vascular dystonia (VVD). Perhaps it was the catalyst for all my nervous and psychological instability.

Huh...

On the surface, you cannot say that I am a person with such diagnoses on my shoulders. This is understandable. I understand why I look like that. Because I always looked like a calm, cold-blooded and reasonable person who knows how to keep himself in hand even when the whole world falls on him. Yes. I am like that. Maybe a little awkward, laconic, humble, but... yes. I've always skillfully pretended to be... "ordinary."

I will not dissemble and tell you right away. Yes. I had many attempts to commit suicide, but each time, with absolute overwhelming, I stopped myself. Everytime. Because... because only completely broken people will do it. Roughly speaking, weak. Weak people. And all my life they instilled in me that I was strong. That I was born to be a strong person. Therefore, I did not want to at least not disappoint others in this. That's why I lasted that long.

I have never had close friends. Never. I've always been alone. Just like I never talked to anyone about my problems. Some will not understand, others will resist, and the rest will only sigh pitifully. I know it. I understand them. It is not every day that you see a person completely empty from the inside, who is so tired of his life that he does not want to live, but at the same time continues to do this only so that he is not considered weak.

I held on as best I could. Until now.

Why do I speak like I'm ready to die? Because lately, the emptiness inside me has just started to increase at an astonishing rate. I have been walking on the edge of the blade with my eyes completely closed for a long time, not knowing at all when the end will come. But. For the first time. I felt that already here. The time has come. Time to leave. Break off the edge.
Therefore, for the first time in so many years, I turned to my therapist with complaints about "parasuicidal thoughts". He, of course, prescribed me pills, recommended a specialist, and so on, but... I do not have such means to provide myself with receptions from a psychologist or psychotherapist.

So.. yeah. That is why I am here.

My therapist recommended that I start writing about my problems on my social networks, and if in "VK" my subscribers have long been familiar with my problems and have long come to terms with my constant complaints, then I decided to make a frank post here too. On the "FA". Because I do not know. It's easier to write here... for some reason. Probably due to the fact that this is a more global service and that no one here knows about my problems. Hah...

I hope you don't mind if I, from time to time, write here about such revelations? Well, not too often. Once a month there, at two. A-hah...!

And, don't worry about me.
If I still decide to end my life, then I will definitely say about it. I somehow found the strength to drag myself off the cliff, right? So I will definitely take the time to say "goodbye" to you.