I've taken four. I have ten left. What now? Do I have the guts?

I want to take them. I want to die. Christ, why won't these feelings stop? Why is it that as soon as I'm on my own I'm a wreck. I want to cut. But I promised him I wouldn't. I promised him I wouldn't overdose either. Who cares about freaking promises. Make this stop. Please, someone make this stop.

I'm talking to a friend over msn, who says they're feeling depressed because of their ex. I'm finding it really hard to help, because although I love them, and I understand they feel bad, it hurts that they don't know how I've been feeling. It hurts that people don't know, and if they see me crying or angry or something, they think I'm weird or over reacting to something or just attention seeking. I hate keeping everything hidden.

I didn't overdose. But I still have the pills. And I still want to.