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?
24 Oct 2008 mr x ask some homeles person to rape you! thats worst than death i think
24 Oct 2008 Dave what the fuck is this web site about? Is this for real? tell me, and I'll tell you my story
23 Oct 2008 Carly Jackson-Hawkes omg! i can't beleive i found this site. i'm not 13 anymore i am a grown woman with kids. i remember feeling that life was shit ect when i was your age..but how shit will it be for your family if you do this? i lost a friend through suicidewhen i was in my teens and i was clinically depressed because of it. its the most horendous thing you could put your friends and family through. as you grow up and your world opens to new possibilities life gets better, life is amazing be brave and live it!!
23 Oct 2008 Nicholas I think that's bazooka in head.
22 Oct 2008 lonely again i loved him and he pushed me away, i shared things and he walked all over me. now once again i have nobody!
22 Oct 2008 mummabear Are you people out of your mind.If you want to kill yourself thats fine but leave inosent little children alone.
Did your parents raise you to hate the world and everything in it?
Cause if thats the case then you should leave it in the home and quit trying to kill off the population of babies under 13.
I have a ten month old and there is no way that he would ever be brought up to hate as much as you people do.
so my advice to you is if life is so bad for you quit wasting your time on this stupid screwed up website and the go commit suicide then parents wont have to worry about what there children are reading from you half wits.
21 Oct 2008 Tonja Hmm...13??? You should be having the time of your life. I signed on to this forum because of my desire to kill myself and well I am an adult and have lived a lot of life to see that existing is miserable. But you, you have your whole life ahead of you. Maybe u should try life before u decide committing suicide and see if its worth it or not. Personally, i plan on jumping off a bridge later this evening. Its a high one here in hawaii and everyone and everything has beat me down and therefore i feel there is no other alternative. Your young give it some more time before u walk away from the world.
21 Oct 2008 just writing Will anyone really notice if I kill myself on friday?
It would take a month to just know of my disappearance.
I wish I could tell someone how I feel
But I can't even win their approval on anything normal.
I have no friends, no family, no life,
Sometimes I feel I belong in the dirt and 6feet under.
But isn't that the easy way out?
Some say it is but so what-
At this time I have no cares
for my soul has left and I'm in despair.
21 Oct 2008 sabrina Hi people of a america
i m so wat depressed my father divorced my mother i tried to commit suicide bout i lost track everythin in my life is gettin 2 me my dad never lisetin 2 me i was raped n aboused my my ex bf hes in jail now i hate 2 see inncent and good ppl we like that we all should die but how r we goin 2 be remmbered my words,wriitng,hw? u can nly remember how a person acts we all are u
ntique in a way
u say smethin wrong to person but that person never 4gives u at all 4 wat u have done 2 ythem
i fill dead everyday i cut myself so nbody could see my marks i have on my body nobody in vites me 2 any partys
i feel lonely and all by myself i wonder if i should jus kill myself y should any1 matter bout me 4 im already dead y should i leave now
i miss my grandfather alot
i never got 2 see him very much
my mother doesnt care bout me
she call a bitch,a fat pig,a hooker,
n i cry everynight wishin y God doent jus kill me!
i wonder everyday will i make it or not will i kill myself,should i cut my self
idk idk idk
but u ppl tahat tried it i know how feel not really but u took a chance
2 go n do somethin
21 Oct 2008 Adrian Something is wrong with me. i have always been one to wear pink and laugh and giggle and enjoy life. now i am nothing. I have no desire to live. alli want is death. Love is a bitch. I fell in love with a guy. He cheated on me with my fucking best friend. Now i have no friends. now i am alone. i wake up in the morning but feel no desire to move from the welcome of my own home. its been more than a year scince i have been happy. I dont think i will ever be happy again. What is life when you do not live? What is love when you do not love? What is pain if you do not feel pain?

i cut myself. i have scars on my arms and legs and all over my fucking body. when i see the blood flow from my skin i feel no regret, no pain. when i feel the stinging reaction of my skin, i feel no regret. no fear. No matter how hard i try i can not feel things anymore. if i had one wish i would wish that i would die. the people who tell us we are "fucking emo cowards" have never felt the true nothingness. There are people who live with a desire to stay alive. and theres those of us who feel no desire to even move. i do not eat. only when my current friends and boyfriend shove something down my throat. I wish for nothing more than to die. Why should i wish for something that i could give myself? How hard could it be to just jump out in the middle of the road right now? If i wish so much to die then why am i still here? i do not know the answer.

I have tried to kill myself before and obviously as you read this you know i did not succeed. i am 14. i am a girl. i have blonde hair and blue eyes. I wear all black with black jewlry and a black joker necklace with safety pins hanging from it. these safety pins are my life my air. they protect me. i take them out at school and stab my wrist with them. I am what some people would call an emo freak. i am also what some people would call human.

peole say that they dont know how i could cut myself and stab myself. and i say that i dont know how they couldnt. how they could be happy living in this severely fucked up world. we might be cowards and we might not. i dont know. its not my place to judge because i can not judge the world objecticly. you can only objectivly judge something you have experienced. I have not truely experienced hapiness so it is not my place to judge those who are happy. i feel no desire to live. when i go to sleep i have no desire to ever wake up. so what does that mean i should do i can not live when i have no life inside me. i will. die.........soon..
20 Oct 2008 simon drink all of the poison under the sink.
19 Oct 2008 Uukkyy Take some of mummy's pills you find in the medicine cabnet.
Overdose and go to sleep. Relax. Let the pills work.
Make sure you tell all the people that care for you that you love them and thanks for everything thy have done. Jst a shame it wasn't enough I guess.
18 Oct 2008 Georgia Please don't do it. I came to this site because I also searched for a way to commit suicide painlessly. My boyfriend broke up with me the night before a final. He was the only person in the world I loved. It's been 6 months and I still cry at night because I miss him. But I promise you, it will get better, for me and for you. Life gets so much better from high school. If you are fat, you will lose weight. If you have no friends, you will make yourself popular. If you are poor, you will be rich. If someone is hurting you, there are people out there who will listen and will get you out of your situation for free. Go to your local emergency room, google a shelter, call a legal aid number, call Samaritans, talk to someone right now. I know it helps, it's what I did and it's why I am still here. Suicide does not just harm you. It denies the entire world all the possibility that you hold. You do not know what you might accomplish one day and it is simply not fair to deny the rest of us the possibility of your gifts. Think of it as a gamble. You will die no matter what, that's certain. And right now, you feel miserable, but that might not always be true. Isn't it worth the gamble that one day things will get better? Even if you live for a hundred years, life on this Earth is short. What seems like endless pain to you now will seem like a second when all is said and done. Please keep trying.
18 Oct 2008 Jebediah Hussein No matter what the age, narcotic overdose is preferred. Painless, even fun! Woot!!!
18 Oct 2008 time to ride, time to die when i kill myself i dont want to be rememberedi just want to leave pain in EVERYONE'S life for the hell they put me through!!!!
17 Oct 2008 Talk To Me you guys need to vent and you know it
i need to vent too
im not trying to convince anyone to stope what they're doing but i think you just need someone to talk to and love you.

e-mail me:
16 Oct 2008 Kuborion Bye-bye, baby,
Don't be long.
I worry about you
While you're gone...
15 Oct 2008 Zach Go visit a site called To Write Love on Her Arms. If you haven't heard of it, a girl once tried to kill herself multiple times, but never succeeded. Her friends made this site as a support for her. They told her story and how it affected everyone around her. I can't remember when the site was originally created, but since then, thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of kids and teens and even adults have posted similar stories and ways to overcome these feeling of hopelessness.
I used to think about killing myself all the time, but then something happened and my life changed. I've started to feel suicidal again, but I still hope that something amazing will happen.
If you are serious about killing yourself, and aren't here just for laughs, good luck. Maybe you'll survive to contemplate the meaning of your existence another day. If you don't, then I guess I'm glad that you've succeeded where many have failed.
14 Oct 2008 rezz im 12... im sorry, this is the dumbest site i have ever seen in my life. The answers that others put up to this questions are good but this question it self is very, very, stupid - I can't take this, I'm tired, sad and there's only one way out - People who try to die don't realize how corny and crappy this sounds. The whole point is that you want to feel better. Not die. People commit suicide cuz they think they'll have a better life. Now let me tell you reality for athiests. If you die for someone to make them happy, it's not gonna be a great touching story of how you'll be in hevean watching over them. You die, you done existing in this world. You're not there. You want to feel better. Not screw play with life and die. Now for god believers - It makes me so mad to think of you bastards. You go to hell for giving up in hope. not hevean. I get mad cuz god made you for a reason. Look at africa or iran and places like that. Kids don't kill them selves cuz of their hopeless lives. They live. Live cuz they want more. And here you guys are probably on this site cuz ur boyfriend turned gay and broke up with you or something. We have a lot to learn from kids like that. My little sister died when she was 6. She caught an amonia. SHE didn't die. She tried to live. She was the bravest smartest girl in the world. She new that she was going to die before i even did. But she would smile in front of me with what ever I did. My friend in Kenya didn't kill her self when she caught malaria. I couldn't go near her for 5 weeks. She eventually died but she tried to live. My friends mom died two months ago from breast cancer. But when she died, my friend didn't cry or tried to kill her self. She wants to become a great doctor and now she's in the best middle school of tokyo cuz she knows theres hope. Thats why all you sons are stupid. It's your choice if you want to die but go ahead. I hope you go to hell and Satan rips out your eye sockets out. Hope you learned.
13 Oct 2008 crystal The Quest - by Wystan Hugh Auden

I. The Door

Out of it steps our future, through this door
Enigmas, executioners and rules,
Her Majesty in a bad temper or
A red-nosed Fool who makes a fool of fools.

Great persons eye it in the twilight for
A past it might so carelessly let in,
A widow with a missionary grin,
The foaming inundation at a roar.

We pile our all against it when afraid,
And beat upon its panels when we die:
By happening to be open once, it made

Enormous Alice see a wonderland
That waited for her in the sunshine and,
Simply by being tiny, made her cry.

II. The Preparations

All had been ordered weeks before the start
From the best firms at such work: instruments
To take the measure of all queer events,
And drugs to move the bowels or the heart.

A watch, of course, to watch impatience fly,
Lamps for the dark and shades against the sun;
Foreboding, too, insisted on a gun,
And coloured beads to soothe a savage eye.

In theory they were sound on Expectation,
Had there been situations to be in;
Unluckily they were their situation:

One should not give a poisoner medicine,
A conjurer fine apparatus, nor
A rifle to a melancholic bore.

III. The Crossroads

Two friends who met here and embraced are gone,
Each to his own mistake; one flashes on
To fame and ruin in a rowdy lie,
A village torpor holds the other one,
Some local wrong where it takes time to die:
This empty junction glitters in the sun.

So at all quays and crossroads: who can tell
These places of decision and farewell
To what dishonour all adventure leads,
What parting gift could give that friend protection,
So orientated his vocation needs
The Bad Lands and the sinister direction?

All landscapes and all weathers freeze with fear,
But none have ever thought, the legends say,
The time allowed made it impossible;
For even the most pessimistic set
The limit of their errors at a year.
What friends could there be left then to betray,
What joy take longer to atone for; yet
Who could complete without the extra day
The journey that should take no time at all?

IV. The Traveler

No window in his suburb lights that bedroom where
A little fever heard large afternoons at play:
His meadows multiply; that mill, though, is not there
Which went on grinding at the back of love all day.

Nor all his weeping ways through weary wastes have found
The castle where his Greater Hallows are interned;
For broken bridges halt him, and dark thickets round
Some ruin where an evil heritage was burned.

Could he forget a child's ambition to be old
And institutions where it learned to wash and lie,
He'd tell the truth for which he thinks himself too young,

That everywhere on his horizon, all the sky,
Is now, as always, only waiting to be told
To be his father's house and speak his mother tongue.

V. The City

In villages from which their childhoods came
Seeking Necessity, they had been taught
Necessity by nature is the same
No matter how or by whom it be sought.

The city, though, assumed no such belief,
But welcomed each as if he came alone,
The nature of Necessity like grief
Exactly corresponding to his own.

And offered them so many, every one
Found some temptation fit to govern him,
And settled down to master the whole craft

Of being nobody; sat in the sun
During the lunch-hour round the fountain rim,
And watched the country kids arrive, and laughed.

VI. The First Temptation

Ashamed to be the darling of his grief,
He joined a gang of rowdy stories where
His gift for magic quickly made him chief
Of all these boyish powers of the air;

Who turned his hungers into Roman food,
The town's asymmetry into a park;
All hours took taxis; any solitude
Became his flattered duchess in the dark.

But, if he wished for anything less grand,
The nights came padding after him like wild
Beasts that meant harm, and all the doors cried Thief;

And when Truth had met him and put out her hand,
He clung in panic to his tall belief
And shrank away like an ill-treated child.

VII. The Second Temptation

His library annoyed him with its look
Of calm belief in being really there;
He threw away a rival's boring book,
And clattered panting up the spiral stair.

Swaying upon the parapet he cried:
"O Uncreated Nothing, set me free,
Now let Thy perfect be identified,
Unending passion of the Night, with Thee."

And his long-suffering flesh, that all the time
Had felt the simple cravings of the stone
And hoped to be rewarded for her climb,

Took it to be a promise when he spoke
That now at last she would be left alone,
And plunged into the college quad, and broke.

VIII. The Third Temptation

He watched with all his organs of concern
How princes walk, what wives and children say,
Re-opened old graves in his heart to learn
What laws the dead had died to disobey,

And came reluctantly to his conclusion:
"All the arm-chair philosophies are false;
To love another adds to the confusion;
The song of mercy is the Devil's Waltz."

All that he put his hand to prospered so
That soon he was the very King of creatures,
Yet, in an autumn nightmare trembled, for,

Approaching down a ruined corridor,
Strode someone with his own distorted features
Who wept, and grew enormous, and cried Woe.

IX. The Tower

This is an architecture for the old;
Thus heaven was attacked by the afraid,
So once, unconsciously, a virgin made
Her maidenhead conspicuous to a god.

Here on dark nights while worlds of triumph sleep
Lost Love in abstract speculation burns,
And exiled Will to politics returns
In epic verse that makes its traitors weep.

Yet many come to wish their tower a well;
For those who dread to drown, of thirst may die,
Those who see all become invisible:

Here great magicians, caught in their own spell,
Long for a natural climate as they sigh
"Beware of Magic" to the passer-by.

X. The Presumptuous

They noticed that virginity was needed
To trap the unicorn in every case,
But not that, of those virgins who succeeded,
A high percentage had an ugly face.

The hero was as daring as they thought him,
But his peculiar boyhood missed them all;
The angel of a broken leg had taught him
The right precautions to avoid a fall.

So in presumption they set forth alone
On what, for them, was not compulsory,
And stuck half-way to settle in some cave
With desert lions to domesticity,

Or turned aside to be absurdly brave,
And met the ogre and were turned to stone.

XI. The Average

His peasant parents killed themselves with toil
To let their darling leave a stingy soil
For any of those fine professions which
Encourage shallow breathing, and grow rich.

The pressure of their fond ambition made
Their shy and country-loving child afraid
No sensible career was good enough,
Only a hero could deserve such love.

So here he was without maps or supplies,
A hundred miles from any decent town;
The desert glared into his blood-shot eyes,
The silence roared displeasure:
looking down,
He saw the shadow of an Average Man
Attempting the exceptional, and ran.

XII. Vocation

Incredulous, he stared at the amused
Official writing down his name among
Those whose request to suffer was refused.

The pen ceased scratching: though he came too late
To join the martyrs, there was still a place
Among the tempters for a caustic tongue

To test the resolution of the young
With tales of the small failings of the great,
And shame the eager with ironic praise.

Though mirrors might be hateful for a while,
Women and books would teach his middle age
The fencing wit of an informal style,
To keep the silences at bay and cage
His pacing manias in a worldly smile.

XIII. The Useful

The over-logical fell for the witch
Whose argument converted him to stone,
Thieves rapidly absorbed the over-rich,
The over-popular went mad alone,
And kisses brutalised the over-male.

As agents their importance quickly ceased;
Yet, in proportion as they seemed to fail,
Their instrumental value was increased
For one predestined to attain their wish.

By standing stones the blind can feel their way,
Wild dogs compel the cowardly to fight,
Beggars assist the slow to travel light,
And even madmen manage to convey
Unwelcome truths in lonely gibberish.

XIV. The Way

Fresh addenda are published every day
To the encyclopedia of the Way,

Linguistic notes and scientific explanations,
And texts for schools with modernised spelling and illustrations.

Now everyone knows the hero must choose the old horse,
Abstain from liquor and sexual intercourse,

And look out for a stranded fish to be kind to:
Now everyone thinks he could find, had he a mind to,

The way through the waste to the chapel in the rock
For a vision of the Triple Rainbow or the Astral Clock,

Forgetting his information comes mostly from married men
Who liked fishing and a flutter on the horses now and then.

And how reliable can any truth be that is got
By observing oneself and then just inserting a Not?

XV. The Lucky

Suppose he'd listened to the erudite committee,
He would have only found where not to look;
Suppose his terrier when he whistled had obeyed,
It would not have unearthed the buried city;
Suppose he had dismissed the careless maid,
The cryptogram would not have fluttered from the book.

"It was not I," he cried as, healthy and astounded,
He stepped across a predecessor's skull;
"A nonsense jingle simply came into my head
And left the intellectual Sphinx dumbfounded;
I won the Queen because my hair was red;
The terrible adventure is a little dull."

Hence Failure's torment: "Was I doomed in any case,
Or would I not have failed had I believed in Grace?"

XVI. The Hero

He parried every question that they hurled:
"What did the Emperor tell you?" "Not to push."
"What is the greatest wonder of the world?"
"The bare man Nothing in the Beggar's Bush."

Some muttered: "He is cagey for effect.
A hero owes a duty to his fame.
He looks too like a grocer for respect."
Soon they slipped back into his Christian name.

The only difference that could be seen
From those who'd never risked their lives at all
Was his delight in details and routine:

For he was always glad to mow the grass,
Pour liquids from large bottles into small,
Or look at clouds through bits of coloured glass.

XVII. Adventure

Others had found it prudent to withdraw
Before official pressure was applied,
Embittered robbers outlawed by the Law,
Lepers in terror of the terrified.

But no one else accused these of a crime;
They did not look ill: old friends, overcome,
Stared as they rolled away from talk and time
Like marbles out into the blank and dumb.

The crowd clung all the closer to convention,
Sunshine and horses, for the sane know why
The even numbers should ignore the odd:

The Nameless is what no free people mention;
Successful men know better than to try
To see the face of their Absconded God.

XVIII. The Adventurers

Spinning upon their central thirst like tops,
They went the Negative Way towards the Dry;
By empty caves beneath an empty sky
They emptied out their memories like slops,

Which made a foul marsh as they dried to death,
Where monsters bred who forced them to forget
The lovelies their consent avoided; yet,
Still praising the Absurd with their last breath,

They seeded out into their miracles:
The images of each grotesque temptation
Became some painter's happiest inspiration,

And barren wives and burning virgins came
To drink the pure cold water of their wells,
And wish for beaux and children in their name.

XIX. The Waters

Poet, oracle, and wit
Like unsuccessful anglers by
The ponds of apperception sit,
Baiting with the wrong request
The vectors of their interest,
At nightfall tell the angler's lie.

With time in tempest everywhere,
To rafts of frail assumption cling
The saintly and the insincere;
Enraged phenomena bear down
In overwhelming waves to drown
Both sufferer and suffering.

The waters long to hear our question put
Which would release their longed-for answer, but.

XX. The Garden

Within these gates all opening begins:
White shouts and flickers through its green and red,
Where children play at seven earnest sins
And dogs believe their tall conditions dead.

Here adolescence into number breaks
The perfect circle time can draw on stone,
And flesh forgives division as it makes
Another's moment of consent its own.

All journeys die here: wish and weight are lifted:
Where often round some old maid's desolation
Roses have flung their glory like a cloak,

The gaunt and great, the famed for conversation
Blushed in the stare of evening as they spoke
And felt their centre of volition shifted.

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