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

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?
30 Nov 2009 update please can we update please?
28 Nov 2009 so tell me why and how? well what shall isay, ? im our of ideas since finding this site in 06 and sharing everything i knew. and im still here. why?
27 Nov 2009 GIlbert Under 13 eh? huh...thats a toughy....i would say Nail yourself to a federal buliding but...that might be hard for an under 13 year about....Anger a Cannibal? that might work nicely.....
24 Nov 2009 Courtney Wow, looks like I'm back. It's been a while since I've written in here. Almost a year. I've gotten a lot of emails from people saying they care. And I guess I can say that things got better. It took time, and 2 suicide attempts, but they really did.

I know I sound really hypocritical, but, here's a quote I really like. "Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end."

Most likely, if you're feeling suicidal, you're suffering from an emotional disorder. It's not your fault, and the best thing to do would be to get help.

I mean, after I tried to kill myself, I got psychiatric help, and I was put on anti-depressants. It made a lot of things better.

I'm just asking everyone who's thinking about killing themselves to really stop. And think. Try to make things better. If anyone wants to talk to someone, just send me an email at

24 Nov 2009 dead inside. I remember the times we spent together
on those drives
We had a million questions
all about our lives
and when we got to New York
everything felt right
I wish you were here with me

I remember the days we spent together
were not enough
and it used to feel like dreamin'
except we always woke up
Never thought not having you
here now would hurt so much

Tonight I've fallen and I can't get up
I need your loving hands to come and pick me up
And every night I miss you
I can just look up
and know the stars are
holdin' you, holdin' you, holdin' you tonight

I remember the time you told me about when you were eight
And all those things you said that night that just couldn't wait
I remember the car you were last seen in
and the games we would play
All the times we spilled our coffees
and stayed out way too late
I remember the time you sat and told me about your Jesus
and how not to look back even if no one believes us
When it hurt so bad sometimes
not having you here...

I sing,
"Tonight I've fallen and I can't get up
I need your loving hands to come and pick me up
And every night I miss you
I can just look up
and know the stars are
holdin' you, holdin' you, holdin' you tonight"

I sing,
"Tonight I've fallen and I can't get up
I need your loving hands to come and pick me up
And every night I miss you
I can just look up
and know the stars are
holdin' you, holdin' you, holdin' you tonight"
23 Nov 2009 Paul C. I'm not joking around with this, I want to commit suicide. I'd like to do it by cutting my wrists.

I'd like to slit my wrists, watch the blood flow as my life slides away with my worries and pains. I'd like to slowly feel my heart beat out the blood I don't want to hold.
23 Nov 2009 Anonymous 1 life affects 100.
23 Nov 2009 Lennie M tout comprendre c'est tout pardonner

i keep telling myself it'll get better and i keep crying and asking for death. do you fantasize about suicide? it'll get better. imma keep telling myself. it'll get better. but it just gets worse and worse.
oh God please help me
please please help me
22 Nov 2009 yeah its me i told you i would I am on the verge...i sit in work with a blade slicing my skin...the scars visible, talking about suicide and my friends act like nothing is wrong..ive been the person that is always happy but its always been a front..these masks now suffocate me...i am dying...soon it will be over...i cant take much more..i cant take everyone seeing my cuts and pretending they dont i just wish you would reach just looking for someone to finally care if i live or so tired of hurting
21 Nov 2009 xiomara hello im 17 turning 18, And ive been frustrated and stress n depress for 6 yrs and i fed up with it i cant stand being alive no one understands me no one cares i just dont wanna live no more..i ws supposed to get married in december with the guy ive been with for two years almost three and i feel like he dnt care n e more he gives up on me to quick and i just dnt wanna feel this way...........ive cut my self so many times just waiting for a vain to get cut and bleed to death but never works so tell me how can i just past away n forget things
20 Nov 2009 shut it down.... you are not famous. you are not an artist. your website is not sucsessful. in fact your site is an epic failure and reflection of how lame you are.
the right thing to do is close your website down. your site is wrong. proof its wrong: if it wasnt wrong you wouldnt hide your identity.
20 Nov 2009 High Fidelity Enzyme, your on a good roll with these songs of the day. Keep the faith.
19 Nov 2009 Nobody Hanging. The materials are easy to come by and you can hang yourself from a doorknob.

Frankly, though, don't be a pussy. Life will kill you in its own good time. Wait that shit out. You COULD make it better. If you don't, life will kill you.
19 Nov 2009 Enzyme My dear darlin’ death-rabbits…

Enzyme, captain of the rotting multitude is back. So much mercury-tainted misery on the forums these days… my poor maudlin angels! Your wings all torn off, soggy with blood and bile… Come into the fold… into the copse of pine trees. I’ll heal the maelstrom in your cerebral cortex… Stand tall little death rabbits… all is not lost.

First off. One towering lament I hear again and again is that no one loves you, lil mouse. No one cares. No one really understands your delicate brainpan’s electric vibrations. You are wretched, ugly, foul and besmirched. Yes? Who will ever hold you to their neck and coo? Who will stroke your greasy hair and whisper soothing words down your raw throat? Who will cook your pancakes in the morning? Who will flip the record over? Who will lick your temples and cradle you in eternal warmth and silver salvation?

But I ask you. What is the true nature of this ‘love’ you crave? Love. Our society has anointed this elusive and brief emotion to the throne of absolute human achievement. More than just a human ‘experience’ we’ve turned it into the “philosopher’s stone”. The rare ingredient that alchemists used to turn base metals into gold. The solution and balm to all our clawing torments. If you just get ‘love’ you’ll be all better. Free from all woe. At peace. Complete spiritual enlightenment. Complete joy and freedom. Those who have it are ascended deities. Immortals living the epic saga you never could. They stare down at us lonely peons, codgers, reprobates, losers, and vagabonds. That’s how it seems, yes? You’re a blip on the radar. You exist not, because no one cares if you live or die. Yes?

But you are wrong, my adorable little persimmon. Dead wrong. This world we live in is but one shade of the entire story. Deep within your migrating being is another, golden universe of the dawn. The universe of your velvet soul, your chattering life force, the cathedral of your emotions, call it what you will. Your consciousness. And this consciousness IS the audience you crave for your life. You really don’t need the love, approval, understanding of another being to be happy and content. Some of the happiest people on earth live in total isolation in Tibet on the tops of snow-covered mountains milking goats. Sure, love, sex and approval from other humans are NICE and fun to have around, and kinda good for us. But they are not what truly sustains us. No one will ever love you more than your own being.

Close your eyes and listen to your life force trembling and pulsating inside you. A radiating harmonium of thoughts and words and beats and dreams and images and demons and nymphs and monsters all part of you. All created by you. That glow, that universe, that place adores you, lil rabbit. Like no one else ever can. Because you sustain it. Because it is completely original. It has never existed in your distinct pattern before, and will never exist ever again. Think about it. No one exactly like you has ever existed before in the history of the universe, nor will ever exist again. You are so damn rare. If you tend to that inner world by creating things, breathing, escaping, imagining, lollygagging in your unconscious, you’ll get all the love you need. And much more.

See, we’ve all been sold a bill of goods. Our social contract is hopelessly pernicious. From everywhere were are bombarded with constant tirades: “Be loved! Get happy! Get laid! Make money! Find friends! Look pretty! Have children! Be a success! If you can’t, won’t, or live with your mom, you’re a failure! Kill yourself! Give up! Life is a game! You lost! Game over!”

Take a breath, lil mouse. Remind yourself. Life is NOT a game. There is no winning or loosing. Only the passage of time and the accumulation of experience. That’s it. And all experiences are worth having. Good, bad, pathetic, tender. It’s all part of the human rollercoaster ride. Take your fingers off your eyes. You don’t want to miss a thing.

And always remember. Enzyme loves you. Even if no one else does. I do. I’ll enfold you in my poison arms, coo in your ear, give you head, lick your teeth, knit you mittens, braid your greasy hair, draw on your hand, crash your car, kiss the nape of your neck, put on Nick Drake, film you while you sleep, smell your armpits, clean your bathroom, let you doze off, cradle your breasts, eat your food, buy you candy, watch 30 rock with you, clap when you play air guitar, wrap you in a down comforter while it softly snows outside, rent your favorite horror film, and mull you hot apple cider. I will. You know why? Cuz I love my lil velveteen death rabbits. That’s why. Yes. Yes I do.


Song of the day: “Rock & Roll Suicide” by David Bowie.
18 Nov 2009 Ms Mercy If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll want to know is how I like my eggs.
I like them scrambled. I like them scrambled so much that I've had scrambled eggs every day for a week. What this is doing to my insides, I don't know. I can only hope that eating lots of eggs is beneficial to ones health in some way. They might give me the lustrous, shiny hair that people advertise on TV- egg yolks are high in protein, after all.
If I were truly a vessel of the universe these eggs would begin some marvellous sort of transformation that would make me irresistable to middleaged lady vicars. Or at least, somebody dressed as a middleaged lady vicar.
Sadly, this is one of my sexual fantasies that will never be fulfilled, even if a shared love of scrambled eggs brings me together with the lady vicar of my dreams and we begin a torrid love affair. If God exists and I am fucked by one of His representatives on Earth (in the confessional booth, natch), there will be no going back- it would be hell for me.
Although, that being said, I dreamt of hell last night and it wasn't so bad at all. I met Groucho Marx.
18 Nov 2009 myself i have feelings for u does that matter at all? what would u do if my dream came true? did u know that i loved u ? did u know that i care 4 u more than anyone u've ever known? well i do . do i REALLY matter to you?
18 Nov 2009   beat urself with a pipe to the head really hard a fwe times an then wait if it doesnt work first time then repete.
17 Nov 2009 I love this quote " The Depressed hath no friends, therefore Suicide taketh over and moves in. It is then that friends start coming around. "
15 Nov 2009 William MacAdams If you’re socially aware and looking for the dramatic slaughter statement, then head for the biggest hospital in town, to the maternity ward . . . you’ll know what to do. And if you manage to save some of those innocents from life’s bitchery and haven’t been killed, then go straight to the maternity ward waitingroom and take out as many fathers as possible since you can bet your life they’re not done breeding. "A father is always guilty," as Leonardo Sciascia says.

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