I came to the party, but only because I was scared of what I might do to myself if I was in my own, watching another year tick by. The only way I could think of to stop me slitting my wrists, was to be around a load of people.

I had to run and hide when it got near midnight though - all those happy cheery faces, everyone wishing me 'Happy New Year' - I'd have cried, or screamed, or something.

I went back down after an hour, to join the rest of the party. But now I'm lying here in bed, two hours after it all ended, wondering how I'm going to get through the next few days. Or even the next few hours.

The pain's been really bad all day and I'm running out of pills. The doc's away and the Bank Holiday means I can't fill the post dated prescription that I told him would be too late, but he wouldn't listen. I know the stress is making the pain worse but I can't help it.

I won't be here next Christmas. I keep telling everyone I'm not doing Christmas again, but what I really mean is I won't be here.

I don't have the strength to do the therapy and survive the pain. I'm not going through a fifth anniversary of the accident.

Everyone has a limit, and I'm at mine. If it was such hideous manners to do it in someone else's house, I'd do it now.

I can't take this any more. The pain won't stop, I don't know how to make it stop.

I just want to be like everyone else. I just want a life, and people who love me. I can't live like this any more.

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