Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

This won't be the most positive post I have ever written.

When I first tried to kill myself I was clueless. I was 16 and so very stupid about it all. It was after I spent a week in a mental hospital that I discovered a new world. I discovered Susanna Kaysen's book Girl, Interrupted which I related to in so many ways. I discovered other books about depression and people who suffered from it.

Then I learned about Virginia Woolf. This is the point where I became fascinated by death with water. Reading about how she had weighted herself down and waded into the water just seemed so perfect. Then, I became fascinated with Spalding Gray (before his death). Suddenly, he died by jumping off a ferry into the water and drowning. Both suffered from a life of depression and I could relate.

I also remember reading one of Virginia Woolf's suicide notes (the one to her husband) and feeling so... connected to it. I related so much to it and I still do:

"Dearest, I feel certain I am going mad again. I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I shan't recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can't concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don't think two people could have been happier till this terrible disease came. I can't fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can't even write this properly. I can't read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that-everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can't go on spoiling your life any longer. I don't think two people could have been any happier than we have been. - V."