I know, I know, a pretty common topic and such. But, hey, I just wanna vent.I'm not diagnosed with depression or any of the sort, but I guess I have most of the symptoms. I just don't have the courage to ask my parents to go get a diagnosis. It's scary, all of this. I'm a coward, I'm boring, I'm useless, I'm a waste - not anything new, honestly. Everything I used to love to do; playing games, reading, writing, conversing with my friends, eating, watching vids, they didn't have the same effect on me as it did before.Y'know, I thought it was stupid when people say everything turned dull and lifeless when they're depressed, when they've given up on life. How could you see everything so dull when life's so full and colorful? Well, now I know. It's so cliche, but it's the truth. It's almost as if everything was in black and white, yet I knew there was still color and a purpose.Until a few days ago, when I gave up. That flame that was keeping me alive and bright suddenly died, no matter how hard I tried to keep it alive. Every night, it feels like I'm suffocating on the inside. It builds up until it bursts, and tears just start streaming down my face before I know it. In the morning, I try my hardest to show my family and friends that I'm alright, when I'm truly not. It's selfish of me to wait for one of them to notice I'm not, and confront me about it. But I must be a great actress since none of them noticed at all. I should have made it more obvious to them if I wanted help without asking.But it's a little too late. Yesterday, I was able to find a spare jumping rope. All I did was remove the grip things, then I have rope. It's been a problem of mine since I don't have the strength to shove a knife into my torso or bathe with a toaster. I would have jumped off a roof or something, but our roof wasn't high enough and I couldn't fine a height around me that was fatal enough to kill me. So hanging myself was the option I chose.Tonight is the night I would end my life. It was a bit difficult to find a spot that wouldn't scare the life out of my family the moment they left their rooms, but I assume my death would scare them enough. I would hang myself from the window of my room, tied to a desk right next to the window. This morning I was scared to hang myself, but as the day went on, I realized that I've already given up a long time ago. What was the point of worrying now? I'm already prepared.Honestly, even if I'm already disappointed in myself enough, I'm just so annoyed that I feel this way. I don't have anything to be sad about, I don't need to be angry at anything, nothing is horrible in my life, so why the fuck do I feel this way?! It's just insulting to those who actually have problems to worry about, it's insulting to those who actually struggle in life!I want to talk to someone, but it's so damn difficult! If I do, I'll just end up breaking down in front of them, and I won't even get a word out. I've already spoken to my parents about how I felt a few weeks ago, but it's too much right now. It feels too much to even ask for a hug or just someone to talk to, all I'll do is bother them and waste their time.The fact that I'm not even diagnosed makes it even worse! What if I'm just over-reacting?? What if it really is all in my head??