I do not want to be alive. This is not a new development; I first voiced this opinion to my mother when I was five years old, and it has persisted through the subsequent four decades despite therapy, a vast array of medications, and multiple forms of invasive treatments that have made my existence even less bearable while having no affect on my depression (or, as I think of it, my identity and most fundamental self). Given the opportunity to press a button and fast-forward to my deathbed, I'd do it without hesitation. But these Nazi motherfuckers will not leave the people I love alone. They are forcing me to stay alive, even though I hate every minute of it, just so I can contribute my meager skills to the war effort against them. You have no idea how furious I am, because all I want is to die, and they won't let me, because if I did I'd be ceding the world to them, and I refuse to do that without exhausting every drop of blood within me. If I can't have a single moment of joy, peace or happiness, then neither can they.