I don't think I can go to the New Year's Eve party tomorrow. I don't want to start another year. I would much rather stay home and die. Really and truly die.

Why would I want to start another year? Each of the last five years has been worse than the one before. Each year has got worse and worse and worse.

I can't go and sit round a table with a bunch of people all looking forward to the next year. All full of hope and promise and anticipation. I can't look them in the eye. I just want to jump up and down on the table and scream at them. Why do they get to be happy and have lives, and I get this? I can't do it.

It was bad enough having to sit through Christmas. Which I already hate. Without having to watch New Year - which I love - get destroyed too.

But if I don't go, there's a very good chance I'll finally go through with the suicide plans. At least at the party, I wouldn't have space to think about it. And it's been filling my mind for days. And if I'm here, alone, there'll be nothing to stop me.

There's nothing to live for. I can't make it through enough therapy to get rid of the pain. And I can't live like this. The pain never stops, the meds don't work, the doctor won't give me enough of them and I would be so much better off dead

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