About 6-7 years ago, I was feeling much the way you are now. I believed I'd been dealt a foul hand in life. I was socially isolated, lonely. And when I woke up in the morning, I awoke to an empty bed. I wished I could have a YF to pamper and cuddle, but the possibility of that was zero, and zero was how it would stay for the rest of my life. The only "relationship" I had with boys was with pictures of boys I'd gleaned from stargalaxy or Jonnie's website. My life was rotten to the core. I started to think about suicide. Researched suicide methods on the web. In the end I took a supposedly lethal overdose of paracetamol. I survived. The psychiatrist who treated me said that the gods had smiled upon me. I wasn't amused. For a long time I felt disappointed at having failed to kill myself. Nothing's changed since way back then. I still think about suicide, and I still think there's no hope. But, hey, I'm still here. And I'm still looking for God. Maybe one day, God will come looking for me.