I feel like my life should be filled with so many special moments... but it's not. I am so perpetually dissatisfied with every aspect of my existence and it's eating me up inside. I've taken to as many forms of self destruction as possible as a means of making my life more meaningful. I have a purpose if I starve myself, or if I binge eat. I'm unique if I cut myself. I'm interesting and rebellious if I drink too much. My destructive tendencies define me. I find no other pleasure than self-inflicted pain and I can't stop because without it, what do I have? who am I? I have no motivation or friends or talent or meaning. My meaning is my suffering. It envelops me. Bad things don't happen to me - they become me. Each piece of my personality originates from a desire to hurt myself. I'm toxic. Infected. I don't want to be alive anymore. I really can't be alive anymore. How do I remove myself from this moment?