Please be warned: the only case that you'll be able to read this and not feel worse than when you started is if you woke up today and told yourself that your prime directive is to listen to tunas' bullshit.
The relevant trigger warnings are: depression, suicidal tendencies, and downright negative attitude.
With that out of the way, thank you for allowing me to continue with my complaining.

When I came back to school, I realised that most of my friends had now graduated and weren't around anymore. This was scary at first, but I figured that it'd go away as I made new friends.
Upon trying to make new friends, I realised for the second time (the first time being when I first came to campus) that it was quite difficult to bond with people who you'd never seen before.
Failing that, I relied entirely on my girlfriend for emotional support. This, of course, burned her out, and she stopped being as caring and accepting. At this point I was not aware just *how much* 
I was reliant on her. This meant that I completely broke down 40 minutes ago when, after our breakup on the terms of me feeling it was unhealthy to try to force her to care about me, I realised
that she — surprise surprise, - does not care about me anymore.

The short version is that currently, I am left with no one to fall back to, and I am afraid of the consequences of this. The last time I had pushed everyone away, in late 2017, I was left with my
ever-negative self, who insisted that I was, in fact, not worthy of life and that I should just stop consuming resources as a result. At that point, I hadn't the mindset to consider my achievements,
no matter how small, as a "reason to live." What really scares me is that I'm back in that mindset.

Just yesterday, I told the head of residence, who expressed a concern over my well-being, that I was getting better; more than that, even, that I was on my way towards feeling socially fulfilled!

I didn't lie. I genuinely did believe this at that point; but, seldom have I ever regretted a chain of events like I regret the past month or two, including deluding myself that I was, in fact,
about to make it by faking it.

For the convenience of rationally getting my position across, I've been trying to stifle my thoughts of self-deprecation, self-harm and even suicide. I find that writing about my problems is the only way
I can actually sit down and think about them without my emotions wreaking havoc on my mindset, and amplifying whatever problem was in question. Of course, as you might have been able to see, I wasn't
completely successful; that's because in this case, it's loneliness, and I feel like if I haven't solved it in the last 5 years, I won't solve it in the next 40, or 60, or 80.

Understandably, this leads back to suicide as a logical approach. I would never want to resort to it, and in fact I'm deathly afraid of taking my own life, but "deathly afraid" means I'd rather die
than do it. You can see the irony.

On a more positive note, I did ask the school's psychologist for an evaluation to put me back on anxiety medication and/or antidepressants. I hate pills, I've never wanted to be dependent on them,
but I'm hoping that a light dose of them can render me functional enough to fix up my life so I can get the ball rolling again without them.
That said, I want to thank everyone in this community for expressing their support, emotional or just conversational, and making me feel like I'm pleasant to be around. I don't mean to put any pressure
on you, but I'd hazard an assumption that I'd be dead without you all.

If you have further questions, as always, you can email me. I'll also be more than happy to listen to your related experiences, unrelated stories, and even about the pigeon that landed on your
windowsill that had a very funny pattern of color on its feathers. 
Thanks for listening.