oh yes I think I understand this. I get very hormonal as well and also like you I never really understood the whole suicide-thing. I've always been... I suppose ambitious is the only word I could use for it. There's so much I wish to do with my life! Learn things and read things and write things and draw things, and while I'd had bouts of nihilism and, well I suppose despair in a way, I never REALLY contemplated suicide, because I always simply felt it was a waste(there's so much potential in a life!), that is until this year. Somehow... this year has been difficult for me, and at times (usually before my period) I felt an overwhelming hopelessness and listlessness and sort of... exhausted wariness. Like nothing in life is worth living. I found an excellent quote in a book I was reading, "There were days when she was unhappy, she did not know why,--when it did not seem worth while to be glad or sorry, to be alive or dead; when life appeared to her like a grotesque pandemonium and humanity like worms struggling blindly toward inevitable annihilation." (Kate Chopin's The Awakening). And I felt truly like there was no point to any of my ambitions, and it was actually a very frightening feeling. It terrified me. It felt like I was drifting away, like something that had always held me so tethered to the earth was gone for that one instant. But of course, a few days later it passed and I went on. Even still, I don't think I would ever seriously, seriously think of suicide other than in an occasional, abstract, fantasizing sort of way, because I always know that I will feel again, it will pass, I'll be happy again and enjoy the company of my friends and my books. Anyways, I suppose that was a very long-winded way of saying that I sympathize; I think I understand a bit of your epiphany.