The Psych Ward and Group therapy

I remember just sitting there, group therapy,holding my knees, head down, not looking at anyone. They would ask me why are you here? I'd simply respond "I was suicidal." "Why were you suicidal?", they would ask. I'd just respond, " I found no point in life." I knew they didn't particularly care. I was just another patient, just another suicidal wreck there that didn't want to be there. Yes, I had come willingly, but just barely so. Another day or two and I would have been forcefully dragged in. I was put on the main ward, for those non violent. I should've been put in another ward because I had thrown fits. They had a police officer making sure I didn't change my mind and leave, though legally they couldn't have stopped me. I felt no joy in life,no point in living when I was borderline athiest. I felt that if there was nothing out there,why bother going through life miserable and depressed when nothing else but this life existed. I had wanted to die for months. Sitting in my room, night after night,crying myself to sleep, hugging my knees and rocking. The true picture of mental illness, though if you knew me times other than then you would never have known how severe it was, nor how badly I wanted to die. My friends did not know, they had no clue that on Christmas eve night I sat with a knife in my hand, ready to turn it on myself at any moment, somehow getting through and surviving until late January when my boyfriend finally convinced me that it was time to get the help I so dreaded of recieving. This is my story. This is my life. Depressed, suicidal, miserable. How I recovered from that I am not quite sure. But this is me.