I got my depression diagnosis a few years back, but I never took it seriously. I recall asking for an appointment with a psychiatrist because my parents were being harsher on me every day, I couldn't handle it, so I thought that if I got a diagnosis then they'd go easier on me for not being able to fulfill their expectations. When the appointment came I said pretty much everything that's usually associated with depression, I didn't really lie at all, but I knew what I was doing at all time, I wanted to receive that diagnosis so I could tell my parents about it, I wanted a diagnosis just to use it as a shield.
Because of the way I got my diagnosis, I never managed to take it seriously, to me I was always just faking depression so that I could have an excuse for my laziness, it felt fake and manipulative, which is why I never really bothered with getting help, afterall, help is for people that are actually sick. One problem I've had though is that if I was faking it then I should be able to stop at any time, and I haven't. I've been spending most days in bed, sometimes just staring at the ceiling, with no desire to do things, no pleasure, I dread tomorrow, I breakdown and have anxiety attacks often, I feel like I'm sick.
Well, recently this has gotten more extreme, I've been studying suicide methods for some time, and at first I was fond of the exit bag, but last year I began to reconsider as I looked for something more accessible, and sodium nitrite won me over, I bought it, it's hidden in my room, in my wardrobe. Today I began working on my suicide note, there's still a lot to do before I finish it, but it's happening. I'm starting to get the feeling that this isn't just me faking it, because I can't stop doing it, I'm just sinking deeper every day and I don't know how to stop it, this feels too real, and now it feels like it's too late.