I'm quitting school. And my mother thinks I haven't yet made this decision. But it's done. It's made. I know because I woke up feeling like I could breathe, like I wasn't going to probably die by my own hand in the next six months or less, I could do a couple chores, a weight felt lifted off my shoulders. This is not an easy decision. I have been working toward my degree for about ten years, but I would prefer to be happy and alive then be miserably working my way toward death. And I'm sure everyone thinks I'm overly dramatic because I'm really good at faking that things aren't so bad. And when I'm not faking it, I'm logical and articulate, so things can't possibly be as horrible as I'm able to explain they are.