I've been thinking a lot about killing myself. My grandfather committed suicide. So did his father. I'm miserable. I don't know what to do when I wake up in the morning. I can't believe I mean the things I say. I'm so fucking dead. I haven't used in a long time, and I don't want to. The methadone works pretty well. But it doesn't stop me from being depressed. I want to die. I saw Dexter today. My family was going to the Exploratorium, so I went along. He said he doesn't want to see me tonight. We made plans. He made plans he had no intention of keeping. It makes me really sad. I want to die. And I don't know what to do about it. Fuck.