maybe i'm not really depressed after all

i wonder often whether people have wrongly diagnosed me as suffering from depression. i think my condition is a function of things i have inflicted on myself, and even worse, on people around me, especially people i love and should be taking care of. maybe there is nothing clinically wrong with me. maybe the fact that i can objectively appraise my own value and can see and accept that the greatest thing i can do for the people i love is to remove myself from their lives, from this world (because that is truly the only way that i can ensure that they will be put in a position to live their lives happily and successfully) is evidence of the clarity of my thought and of my "sanity." that others immediately eschew this solution and declare, in knee-jerk fashion, that it cannot be correct ignores the reality that it sometimes might be the right answer. i have reached a point in my life where i am unable (or maybe unwilling) to change who i am because of a variety of past mistakes and choices that bind me to a particular course (and because i am just a deeply flawed, defective person), and i can see plainly that everything i do -- everything i have done -- is harmful to the people i love and owe a responsibility to. in light of this realization, how can it not be right that the best course -- maybe the only good thing i have done and can do for those i love -- is to remove myself permanently, irretrievably. don't i owe that to them, to the world if that is the only value i have left to give?