I am depressed beyond belief.

I go to a high school where either nobody cares about me or is simply creeped out by me, probably because Im clearly hiding something major. I have High Functioning Autism, and even though I am barely able to keep it hidden due to my “IEP”, I get closer and closer to being found out every day. While it only affects parts of my written and verbal communication (essays are hell, starting conversations is WORSE), it makes all the difference in a place so catty and immature as this.

While I have friends from my home district that have stuck with me for years, at times I doubt even their sincerity, and my introversion makes it near-impossible to get a bigger circle.

I know I need serious psychiatric help, along with medication to control my depression and ADD (yet another mental barrier), but I can’t ask my mother and stepdad because of how strict and high-strung they are. Even if I did, which I have once, the only answer I got was that the insurance plan Im covered under, unfortunately from my dad (I don’t talk to him anymore) can’t provide me with any of the medication.

On top of all this, Im a pathetically hopeless romantic. Im 17 and have never been in a relationship, and Ive given up most, if not all hope of finding one. Every girl Im interested in never likes me back, and when a girl likes me, I never feel the same way. I get that Im attractive from people now and then, but my looks are deteriorating daily from both the stress and the increasing lack of effort.

Im becoming incredibly desperate. My mother is only in her early 40s and has countless medical issues, ones that have been passed down to her genetically from generation to generation; dominant traits that I am almost guaranteed to get. When she leaves the house I carefully file through her perscriptions, seeing if there is anything that can kill me quickly, things I know by name after this endless research. Following one of her surgeries a few weeks ago, I discovered morophine tablets for post-operational pain. The only thing that kept me from taking a lethal dose and committing suicide was knowing that my younger brothers would have to see my dead body. I have to wait for another operation, and for them to leave the house on visitation with their father.

I no longer want to live the rest of my life, because I understand that I will never have one. Despite the fact that I’ve nearly overcome my mental illnesses, they are still prevalent enough to paint me as a freak around my judgemental peers, and because of this any scraps of confidence I had are shot. Its become clear to me that Ive probably also developed Bipolar disorder, and minor schizophrenia as well. All I do now is live day by day, waiting anxiously for some other method. Gagging myself on carbon monoxide from one of the stove heater exhausts outside the house is looking like my best option once it gets cold and they start getting used.

If I could find love, someone who could appreciate some broken and battered kid who cant hold in his emotions any longer, I would do everything I could to reverse my outlook, and try to make something of myself.

But I wont.