Reading these suicide pages you will find people seeking help and people offering their help. Some witness about suicide from real life experience, others who play along with me would pretend it's a children's game. Some make sick and cruel jokes about it, and angry people blame me for even mentioning the subject. You might also want to read my favourite answers. If you want your answer to be included here, fill in the form.

Date Name/email

Nom/email
What is the best way to kill yourself when you're under 13?

Quelle est la meilleure forme de suicide pour les moins de 13 ans?
26 May 2009 M.M. a.k.a. billy the freak amsterdam heaves like the breath in her lungs. people bustle through the streets as
the blood surges through her veins. i can feel this all around me.... however, i sit
alone in the a bar. I want to be alone, only me and the bartender. hey, did you know
i have the power to be anybody? i can go anywhere and do anything, any-fucking-way i
want to do it. However, tonight I sit alone. i sit in a basement level dive too dark
to see the clock on the wall, yet bright enough to see the bar in front of me. the
pink neon light in the window screamed in its best cursive 'MOUCHETTE' a warm and
ambient glow enveloping you like a womb welcoming all to her embrace. however,
tonight i sit alone.
The bartender is mouchette and i am only a guest in her place. like me she has the
power to be anything, but only in the minds of other people. if you were to ask her
who she was("mouchette, really who are you?")she would say she killed herself at the
brink of thirteen and in death had second thoughts. now she plays a game and through
this game she lives on. tonight mouchette is a thirty something italian woman with
the type of beauty that says you would like to fuck her, but wouldn't really perform
at your best only because you are intimidated by her razor sharp wit and her worldly
charm.. She has so many friends and you never feel good enough in her company. the
intimate encounters are few and far between and you both want more. when you are
away she is always in the back of your mind. i know all this and tonight she is only
the bartender, why she is in this spittoon of a saloon could only be guessed, but i
do know she is here... aways here for me.
"mouchette! baby doll, please pour me another." i belted.
"billy darling no need to shout; i am right here and there is no one else in the
bar." she said in a reprimanding tone."another vodka and tonic i would bet."
"right you are. you know me well."
"i know you because you know you, you know me and right now... this is all we know."
"positively insightful mouchette, I say you inspire me. you are my muse." this i
announced with a certain amount of glee.
"billy" she said while fixing my drink. "I am afraid the booze is your muse.." She
sat the drink down in front of me.
I was outraged. "mouchette, you... how could you say this? do you want to hurt me?
do you want me to feel bad?"
"again billy, this is all we know. I think you must ask yourself that question."
{what is her angle? what is she getting at? i want her to go with the flow.} i took
the drink in one gulp then slammed the heavy short glass motioning for another
drink, nectar of the gods.
" vodka and tonic yes?"
"ha!! i would like a whiskey and coke, if you put pepsi in there i will fucking
smack you." i said triumphantly "you are slipping mouchette... maybe you are not my
muse"
"the joke is on you billy." she said in a tired voice and made the drink in the same
dirty glass.
{the joke was on me. i hate whiskey. what is this? do i have control? yes, i have
all the control. when i am here i am king and she is the servant. So why do i feel
so helpless.} the neon light from out side the bar shined through my half empty
short glass, casting glimmers of light onto the slick bar top. the lights danced
across the fine finished wood as i turned the glass between my thumb and index
finger. suddenly i felt alone. no longer alone by choice, but alone... just
helplessly alone.
"well billy, I'm here" falicia said out of nowhere.
"how did you get here." I asked.
"you let me in silly, what kind of question is that." now i am simply sick of this
shit.
"are you going to fuck with me too falicia!" i shot the whiskey and the fumes and
words came out my mouth like fire. "i don't know how you got here. i don't know why
you keep coming back. i didn't open that fucking door."
"i found the door and walked through it just like you did billy, ask yourself these
questions and you will find the answers you are looking for." falicia ordered a
mineral water and drank while i thought about what she said.
i first came here when i was sixteen it was 1998 ten years passed and now i am
twenty six. i didn't give anything, i only took for one decade. she was always here
when i needed her and at times she made me feel special, at times she made me feel
worthless. I would run away but only in presence. in the stealth of the night i
would visit. the price i pay is her always haunting me, for not a day goes by... not
a day goes by. did i want a suicide kit for christmas? no, i just wanted to show
other children how to play with the toy. i am no longer a child, but i still play
with this toy.
"falicia i come here because as long as people come here i cannot die.... i will
live forever. this is the gift she gave me and i tell you, i don't know if i deserve
it." just when i thought i was opening up falicia started to laugh a hysterical
laugh. then lucy and phil join in. chris and will snow chime and it now a chorus of
laughter. joe lee, mackellar, elaine, agent orange, just a girl, and many others
have the bar quaking with laughter. in spite of myself i start to chuckle as well,
but i had to ask.
"falicia why are we laughing."
"you wanting to live forever is all fine and good," she said as she points across
the bar with her finger resting towards the bartender. "but what happens when she
dies."
that very moment i had ad a revelation and with that change a change happened in
mouchette. her cigarette burn eyes stared at me as she poured me another vodka and
tonic, her smile was just crack on her plastic face
23 May 2009 M.M. a.k.a.billy the freak the city heaves like the breath in her lungs. people bustle through the streets as the blood surges through her veins. i can feel this all around me... however, i sit alone in her bar. I want to be alone, only me and the bartender.
{hey, did you know i have the power to be anybody? i can go anywhere. yep. i can do anything, any-fucking-way i want to do it. however, tonight I sit alone. i sit in a basement level dive too dark to see the clock on the wall, yet bright enough to see the bar in front of me like a high definition painting in a cheap plastic frame. the pink neon light in the window screamed in its best cursive 'MOUCHETTE' a warm and ambient glow enveloping you like a womb welcoming all to her embrace. however, tonight i sit alone.
the bartender is mouchette and i am only a guest in her place. like me she has the power to be anything, but only in the minds of other people. if you were to ask her who she was, she would say she killed herself at the brink of thirteen and in death had second thoughts. not that she didn't want to kill herself, but wanted to know the best way to do it. now she plays a game and through this game she lives on.
tonight mouchette is a thirty something woman with the type of beauty that says you would like to love her, but wouldn't really be at your best only because you are intimidated by her razor sharp wit and her worldly charm... she has so many friends and you never feel good enough in her company. the intimate encounters are few and far between and you both want more. when you are away she is always in the back of your mind. i know all this and tonight she is only the bartender, why she is in this spittoon of a saloon could only be guessed, but i do know she is here... always here for me.
"mouchette! baby doll, please pour me another" i belted.
"billy, darling, no need to shout; i am right here and there is no one else in the bar" she said in a reprimanding tone", " another vodka and tonic i would bet?"
"right you are. you know me well "i said.
"i know you because you know you, you know me and right now... this is all we know" she replied.
"positively insightful mouchette, I say you inspire me. you are my muse." this i announced with a certain amount of glee, but not really understanding what she said. it sounded good enough.
"billy" she said while fixing my drink. "I am afraid the booze is your muse." she sat the drink down in front of me. she is speaking gobbity gook and suggesting i was an alcoholic. I was outraged.
"mouchette, you... how could you say this? do you want to hurt me? do you want me to feel bad?"
"again billy, this is all we know. I think you must ask yourself that question." she said again putting it back on me.
{what is her angle? what is she getting at? i want her to go with the flow.}
i took the drink in one gulp then slammed the heavy short glass motioning for another drink, nectar of the gods.
" vodka and tonic yes?" she called from across the bar.
"ha!! i would like a whiskey and coke, if you put pepsi in there i will fucking smack you." i said triumphantly. "you are slipping mouchette... maybe you are not my muse maybe this is just a joke."
"the joke is on you billy." she said in a tired voice and made the drink in the same dirty glass.
{and the joke was on me. i hate whiskey. in an attempt to be belligerent i asked for something i didn't want. what is this? do i have control? yes, i have all the control. when i am here i am king and she is the servant. So why do i feel so helpless.}
the neon light from out side the bar shined through my half empty short glass, casting glimmers of light onto the slick bar top. the lights danced across the fine finished wood as i turned the glass between my thumb and index finger. suddenly i felt alone. no longer alone by choice, but alone... just helplessly alone.
"well billy, I'm here" felicia said out of nowhere.
"how did you get here." I asked.
"you let me in silly, what kind of question is that?" was the condescending reply.
now i am simply sick of this shit.
"are you going to fuck with me too felicia!" i shot the whiskey down my throat and the words and fumes came out my mouth like fire.
"i don't know how you got here. i don't know why you keep coming back. i didn't open that fucking door you waltzed in here yourdamnself."
"billy right now you want me here. i found the door and walked through it just like you did. billy, ask yourself these questions and you will find the answers you are looking for". felicia ordered a mineral water and drank while i thought about what she said.
i first came here when i was sixteen it was 1998 ten years passed and now i am twenty six. i found this place when i was contemplating suicide. we all know i'm no strait lacer who tied up his shoes to awalk on the wild side. i never gave anything too much, and got so much in return. she was always here when i needed her. at times she made me feel special, at times she couldn't have made me feel more worthless. I would run away, but only in presence and in the stealth of the night i would visit. the price i pay is her always haunting me, for not a day goes by... not a day goes by. did i want a suicide kit for christmas? not really, i just wanted to show other children how to play with the toy. i am no longer a child, but i still play with this toy. i'll still show to get the max amount fun even if you just watch the other children. something eternal made fameous by the hands of its creator. that's it.
"felicia i come here because, as long as people come here i cannot die... i will live forever. this is the gift she gave me and i tell you, i don't know if i deserve it". just when i thought i was opening up felicia started to laugh a hysterical laugh. then lucy and phil joined in. chris and will snow chime in and it is now a chorus of laughter. joe lee, mackellar, elaine, odd orange, dead inside, just a girl, and many others have the bar quaking with laughter. in spite of myself i start to chuckle as well, but i had to ask.
"felicia why are we laughing?"
"although it sounds like an oxymoron in the most basic sense, you wanting to live forever is all fine and good" she said as she points across the bar with her finger resting towards the bartender "but what happens when she dies?"
that very moment i had a revelation and with that change in my mind a change happened in mouchette. her cigarette burned eyes stared at me as she poured me another vodka and tonic, her smile was just crack on her plastic face.

billy the freak
26 Jun 2004 Mackellar Just for the record, waking up on drugs in a morgue with your pubic hair shaved and some sharp plastic thing shoved up your penis doesn't necessarily make you a real artist.
07 Feb 2004 Leonardius Mackellar Something wonderful has happened to me. i was caught up in 7th heaven. There sat all the gods in assembly. By special grace i was granted the privilege of making a wish. "Wilt thou," said Mercury, "have youth or beauty or power or a long life or the most beautiful maiden... or any of the other glories we have in the chest? Choose, but only one thing." For a moment i was at loss. Then i addressed myself to the gods as follows: "Most honorable contemporaries, i choose this one thing, that i may always have the laugh on my side." Not one of the gods said a word; on the contrary, they all began to laugh. From this i concluded that my wish was granted, and found that the gods knew how to express themselves with taste; for it would hardly have been suitable for them to have answered gravely: "Thy wish is granted." ~Soren
25 Jan 2004 Mackellar Mr. Lee~
You might unearth a great deal of amusement for yourself, as well as your cat, should you study what PSYOPS has discovered about the factual nature behind a schizophrenic mind.
12 Sep 2003 Mouchette Mackellar Once upon a time there was a wave. The name of the wave was, no surprise, Phil. Phil the wave. Phil was a big, powerful wave. His massive blue body surged across the surface of the ocean with great majesty and deceptive speed. Oh yes, Phil was quite a wave. From the moment he rose up from the ocean he felt special. He felt invincible. Ferocious storms battered him with wind and rain, great ships sliced through his very heart, and yet he rolled on. It was not for him to stop and consider the other waves. To stop was to die. Waves have to keep moving... or else. But then one day Phil saw a strange darkness on the horizon and, for the first time in his life, felt fear. What could it be? Was it connected to the laughing creature sliding across his face on a piece of wood? But before he could make sense of it all, he crashed down into the darkness. For a brief moment he felt a weird, splashing feeling, then oblivion. Phil was no more. He was now a part of the sea. And as we all know, the sea loves to make waves.
11 Sep 2003 Larius Mackellar SYMPARANECROMENIAN FAVORITES. VOL.109
The nourishment of solitude is powerful and significant. Change is important to shake up complacency and again open your eyes. Someone once said to me that she "couldn't even SEE me" because i was too familiar and too often "there" in her daily life. When she started spending time away on a regular basis, she smiled at me one day and told me that being away had made her realize how much she sincerely appreciated my qualities as a person.

Do relationships become "stale" when you live with that person? Does a room become stale because it is so familiar to you that you don't even notice the beautiful paintings on the wall anymore? Has our world become stale???

Do what you have to do to shake it up and breathe.
11 Sep 2003 Larius Mackellar "By striving with every facet of the imagination to conceive of chaos, one manages only to explore a little more carefully the terrain of order. To develop one's sensual characteristics, no matter how subtly, leaves one at the mercy of the physical world and its increasingly destructive onslaught. It takes an exceedingly insensitive person today to continue to be an artist. "
~ Paul Bowles
11 Sep 2003 Michael Mackellar Meticulously Cultivated Ignorance
11 Sep 2003 Fionuellia In 3 words, how would you define the collective content of Mr. Mackellar's mind???
11 Sep 2003 Michael Mackellar It's very easy to put your faith in other people because you see something in them that is Beautiful. It is probably something you want that they seem to have and that you do not think you have yourself. it's very easy to make a big deal out of what you think is wrong with other people and barely notice the positive things that come from love, genuine caring, thoughtfulness. One day you begin to notice that no matter how you are judged by another person, it does not matter one bit. One moment they smile at you; the next moment they yell at you. One day you stop being a slave. One day you find your center and realize that it is strong because it does not know everything.
05 Sep 2003 Nomed Cilegna SYMPARANECROMENIAN FAVOURITES. VOL.31
The Gay Punk was mildly disoriented when he realized he and Just A Girl were the same person. This sort of cognitive moment tends to undermine a guy's sense of self. But it didn't stop there. When The Gay Punk looked around the room, he realized he was also Lucy and Emily and Mouchette and Mackellar. Heck, he was also the imaginary Ghost-orchids on the sight-front. Suddenly he felt enormous compassion for all these variations on himself, or rather "ourself", which he thought was a more appropriate label. The pain of loneliness and the fear of death were suddenly swept away by this one blinding flash of insight. It was so obvious! There are no separate forms of life. Life was life, just sort of wandering around looking at itself, loving itself, and unfortunately killing itself. Which is when The Gay Punk woke up, wanked, showered and shaved, went to work, worried about nonsense, drove home, watched a supposedly funny show, had a stiff drink and went to sleep again.
05 Sep 2003 Peter Hoeg (Mackellar) It was a novel thought for Krisha: What if she's not someone who is perpetually in need of repair? What if the real grunt work of self-improvement is simply being aware of the things one thinks, feels, says and does? Krisha decided to put her novel thought to the test by being aware of the first feeling that came along. As it turned out, her first brain guest was the feeling of horny. Krisha was aware that she was horny. But, her awareness told her she was not so much horny as lonely. And the loneliness was really just a deep-seeded fear that she was unworthy of being loved...... even by herself. Suddenly, Krisha no longer felt horny. Now she felt hungry. But not so much hungry as sad. And the sadness was really just a deep-seeded fear that she was unworthy of being loved...... even by herself. Which caused Krisha to no longer feel hungry. Now she felt insane. But, that was okay because she was aware of it. And it wasn't so much insane as psychologically giddy.
10 Apr 2003 Mordre Mackellar HAS ANYBODY EVER READ A BOOK CALLED "EXQUISITE CORPSE" WRITTEN BY ROBERT IRWIN???
AND HAS ANYONE SEEN HOW PERTURBEDLY EVOLVED BLOW-UP DOLLS HAVE BECOME THROUGH VISITING... REALDOLL.COM???
28 Mar 2003 Marius Mackellar Where are you wounded girls, with bruised faces and blackened eyes?
Break open your glass doors, welcome the whirling debris...
Carve your name there in the marble and concrete.
Kill idiot violence, punish greed, punish me. Run naked through the streets stabbing bloody eyes and scream. i pray for you murderous,
i pray for you well-honed and clean. i pray for you any way your violent nature needs you to be... And i praise your name.
i praise the taste of the word on my tongue, and i praise your righteous, rising hate. i praise your soft lips, and i praise your revenge.
i praise your tenderness and your skin, and i praise your pure, uncorruptible pain.
i like you like this, lying there on your side. i praise the scars on your body, and i praise your black mirrored eyes.
You're Glorious!
So rise above the garbage. Leave me where i fall.
Rise above the wreckage.
Kill anything that walks.

Free from your past, free of your future too, there's nothing left to rise above but you.
Show me your ocean red, kiss the scars that stain my neck, drug me with insights untrue.
But i own a photograph, you lie there naked on your back, safe in a stone house on the sea.
There's nothing true and nothing's real, but i remember one clear feeling, warmth beside your gentle company.
When i lay dying upon some bed, i hope that you'll remember this:
the only one i want to see is You.
~AnGeL Of LiGhT
27 Mar 2003 Michael Mackellar INOSTUS. ~In possibility everything is possible. For this reason, it is possible to become lost in possibility in all sorts of ways, but primarily in two. The first takes the form of desiring, craving; the other takes the form of the melancholy-imaginary (hope/fear of anxiety). Legends and fairy tales tell of the knight who suddenly sees a rare bird and chases after it, because it seems at first to be very close; but it flies again, and when night comes, he finds himself separated from his companions and lost within the wilderness where he now is.
So it is with all desire's possibility. Instead of taking the possibility back into necessity, he chases after possibility... and at last cannot find his way back to himself. In melancholy the opposite takes place in much the same way. Melancholically enamored, the individual pursues one of anxiety's possibilities, which finally leads him away from himself so that he is a victim of anxiety or a victim of that about which he was anxious lest he be overcome...
No more negativity. The illness has passed. Again.
21 Mar 2003 Mary-Annette Mackellar SO DAMN INSANE.
Some of us are weak, and some endure.
Some people live their lives with a violence that is pure and clean. But i saw a man cry once, down on his knees, in a corner of a darkening cell, and his pain meant nothing to me. But i was younger then, and young men never cry. When i walked out in the sun i was strong, clear-minded and Blind.
Remove my hand from your pocket. Pluck my eye from your socket. i am your secret sharer. Bleeding beneath your covers. Show me the texture of your pregnant tongue. Prepare my mind with abortion. Drown me with rose scented honey-milk. Configure my soul with your voice of silk. Why am i so cruel? Why do i Love you? Why are you so beautiful? ...Because you are cruel. ~m.gira
21 Mar 2003 Michael Mackellar THE CORPSE WHO TRIED TO PORTRAY MERCY.
~It is Over. My life is afloat. Here i am where my soul's yearning was, where the ideas foam with elemental rage, where thoughts arise boisterously like emotions in migration, where at another season there is a stillness like the profound silence of the Dead Sea, so that no one can hear oneself speak even though the movement goes on in one's interior. There where one every instant loses and regains one's life.
i belong to the Idea. When that beckons me i follow, when it appoints a tryst i await it morning and night, though it never calls at Noon. When the Idea calls i forsake everything, or rather i have nothing that would refrain from forsaking itself. i deceive nobody, i grieve no one by being faithful to the Idea, still my spirit would not become grieved by having to grieve another if that were part of the Idea. When i return home~ not the place where i belong, but the place where i live~ no one reads into my looks, no one deciphers in my countenance, no one extorts from my being an explanation which even i could not give to any other... as to whether i am blissful in gladness or despondent in madness, as to whether i have earned this Loss or Gain of life.
That chalice of inebriation is again awaiting before me. Already i exhale its fragrance, already i am sensible of its sweetly insensible music...
but first a libation to Her who saved a soul which sat for so long in the solitude of despair. Hail to Feminine magnanimity! Long life to the far-flung flight of Thought, to moral danger in the service of the Idea! Hail to the dangerous dance within the vortex of the Infinite! Hail to our histrionic existence! Hail to that breaking wave which drowned me within my own abyss!
And Hail to the breaking wave which shall hurl us up among the Stars!!
18 Mar 2003 Sia Aryai--mackellar@cottonboll.com .REFLECTIONS OF A YOUNG WOMAN WITHIN THE REACH OF BALANCE.
i am the only being whose doom
No tongue would ask, no eye should mourn;
i never caused a thought of gloom,
a smile of joy since i was borne.
In secret pleasure, secret tears,
this changlings life has slipped away;
as friendless after twenty years,
as lone as on my natal day.
There have been times i could not face
there have been times when this was drear
when my sad soul forgot its place
and longed for one to Love me here.
But those were in the early glow
of feelings since subdued by care,
and they have died so long ago;
these rotted clothes which i still wear.
First melted off the hope of youth,
then fancy's rainbow soon withdrew,
and then experience told me truth
in mortal bosoms rarely grew.
'Twas grief enough to think mankind
so hollow, servile, insincere...
but worse to trust to my own mind
and find the same corruption here.
~E.B.
14 Mar 2003 Inostus Mackellar TO SEE THE WORLD THROUGH AN UNBURIED EYE
one second burns for a billion years/and time is relative/and light is physical/we feel your body/we feed your feelings/we see the eye of god blink through the citadel/and in your hands time was made/and through our breathing we'll erase it/and you can see forever/before love and hate/as space is lost/behind the universe/and in your mind hell was made/and through our breeding/we'll populate it/and you can feel forever/before faith and fear/and we will fall right through the walls/of this place where we are chained/right into the open mouth of the great annihilator...///... ~m.gira

Much more than this....
   Next
1 2 3 4 5 ... 3 4 5
Famous users search:
Lucy Cortina   Chris   Mackellar   Felicia   Joe Lee   Billy   Phil   will snow   Enzyme   

Search:  
Read the archives