Fear of failing. Contradictory, isn’t it. But that is essential what I am. To explain, if I attempted, and I mean seriously attempted suicide (again), and the attempt was not successful, I couldn’t bear the thought of being a burden – financially as well as physically – on my mother. I wouldn’t want to be a little gem squash stuck in this body, unable to do anything; that would frustrate me more than living miserably as I do now. I can at least distract myself in my current situation. So there you have it: Not believing in myself & what I’m capable of is why I’m still inflicted on civilisation.