|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.|
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?
|01 Apr 2004||mauvaissouhait||Chris, its me.. donielle... I miss talking to you a lot. I'm home now from my trip to Europe. Please call me. I'd love to be able to discuss things with you. A lot has been going on, and i need you to talk to. you're like my rock.. idk if i'd be here if not for u|
|29 Mar 2004||chris||etouffement par sac plastique. C'est rapide et tres facile a se procurer.|
|23 Mar 2004||Max||Hello.
I have read a lot of what people have said here and have wanted to add in and help, but did not know what to say. I am not a talented writer like Chris and many other people here, but I will try anyway. I am 17 and I have thought about suicide a lot. It may sound strange, but I am not really sure how suicidal I actually am or not. (Im moody person and today I woke up in a good mood. I might speak very differently about this if I woke up in bad one.)
So I guess the best I can do right now is say what has worked for me.
The one most important thing that, I think, has kept me alive this long has been painting. This, though, is just what I happened to be able to do, it is having a way to express yourself that is important. Painting, for me, is important because it makes me feel like I am at least doing something worthwhile in all the time I spend alone. It helps me deal with all the issues that bother me. I cant say exactly how it works, but once I express a thought that has been bothering me in a painting it then feels like I have come to different terms with it. Although it is still there, I am much better able to deal with it.
Drawing and later painting was just what I first turned to when I started feeling like I knew there was something different about me a few years back. It could be any number of different things that works for you, so it is a good idea to try a bunch of different art forms and find what feels the best. Writing, music, poetry... there are a ton of different ways! Although you cant expect to be very good at it right away, there is no way you will learn ant form better than if you have a suicidal dependency on it!
Also it should be known that anyone can learn to express themselves. It seems like sometimes people believe you are born an artist or you are not - this is not true in the least! Everyone has that part of the brain that you use to create art from in them. Some people just dont learn to use it. (If this interests you, read Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain by Betty Edwards. It is about how anyone can learn to draw, and the more psychological side of art, what is happening in the brain and all.)
Learning about psychology also, I think, has helped me begin to better understand myself.
So what I guess what is important here is to make some goals for yourself. I want always to be a better artist. Sometimes, when I am feeling really angry, my goal is only to show all the people I cant stand what an unpleasant place it is in my head in my paintings, in hope of making them feel a bit uncomfortable, or maybe even realize how little emotion they know. And that is ok! I dont succeed in that goal, but it's a goal so it is better than nothing.
I also like to know how there were many great people who dealt with depression and suicide. Do any of you have a favorite? Mine would have to be Van Gogh, although there are many of them. Maybe some of the writers like Sylvia Plath would be more appealing to the large writing community that seems to exist here.
Well this is all I can think of to say for right now, if it sounds like I may have something in common with you or you want to talk feel free to Email me. Maxk86@hotmail.com
|21 Mar 2004||Christine||In the first place i would like to ask... Why do you want to do such a thing? I am a mother of a 7 yrs old boy who lost his father to suicide when he was only 18 months old. I to this day am in a new relationship but still suffer from this awful thing called suicide. My son to this day asks questions about his father and cries every night to have his father near him. You don't just hurt yourself doing this you also hurt many people who love you after you end your life. I till this day miss my son's father and have many unanswered questions that can never be answered. I am also depressed and is on antidepressants but that would never make me end my life. I have thought about it when i was younger but now i relieve how much it hurts the people you leave behind. So please don't ever commit suicide before you even think about it go get help please.. Do it for the ones who are left behind when you would be gone....|
|17 Mar 2004||George Bush||For 99.9 % of the human race, we are selfish. Selfishness is the reason for everything we do. After all, if one doesn't live for oneself, who do we live for? Do you live for your loved ones? And what is love?
My friend told me once, Loving someone is about giving something without ever asking something for return. Good loving parents give children everything they want, only hoping they can be happy (especially if the children are cute and lovable). But have you ever loved a stranger? Who cares about a beggar on the street? Who cares about 13 years olds crying for help? Who really cares about you?
Love is selfish, the person you love is someone you know well over the years. The thing that you love is a thing that you wish to own. A car, a computer, a digital camera... whatever. Therefore, if it's something you don't want to own, you probably will never love it. A piece of feces, a bottle of poison, deadly biological viruses... maybe death.
So now, what the fuck do I want to help you die? Out of love? or out of hate? I don't even fucking know you for crying out loud. I have no feelings towards you all. And why do you expect anyone will ever help you? I know that some people are trying to act all humane or righteous on this site, are you for real? Because if you are, then you are even more psychotic than the regular writing gangs lead by that Chris.
I am no genius, but I believe that all problems can be solved either by money, suicide, or waiting. So if you want to help, give these kids some money! Money makes a person cool in any culture. Can money buy love? hell yes! If you kids already have money, and you still want to kill yourself and asking for help... then you just don't know how to spend it. Got to go, I try to finish it later, lack creativity lately because I am getting laid.
|17 Mar 2004||Chris||Negative writing, a lot of times, actually constitutes a lot more creativity. It is interesting to watch a writer going through the weaving of trying to tell why something sucks without just saying that it sucks. To say why something is great, somehow takes less creativity.
My dear elaine: me, you, billy the freak, anyone else who writes on this site? We're all saying the same thing actually but me and you and the 'gang' (a term which I don't like but I used because you did) weave the words so that anyone who reads our stuff will realise that life is shit while others say it's outright shit. So to say the truth no one's story here is worth telling cos it's all the same shit! Just one satement I didn't like: "I'm talking complete shit" because you aren't. You're just expressing your thoughts, saying the truth and being honest, and there's nothing better than being honest. Yes, charity and good as written in the bible really exists, but only from a girl like you who's got the balls (excuse the biological pun) to be fucking honest...
... for those who are not honest are full of dirty little secrets, and dirty little secrets introduce you to blackmail.
I think there are things you should know about blackmail, in case it comes tapping at your door. There's what it does to you, and then there's what it makes you do. I used to think I knew what I could be made to do.
Blackmail doesn't work the way I always thought it would, if I ever gave it a thought. It doesn't smash through the clean pane of a life like a stone through a window. It's always an inside job, the most intimate of crimes. Somebody in the house has left that little window open, just a snick. The person who leaves the window open doesn't know why. Or else doesn't want to know. From outside a hand reaches into the gap, and the window creaks wide. Cold air comes rushing in. I see that hand now, each time I shut my eyes to sleep. Sometimes it's heavy and alien, the hand of a stranger. I can count the hairs on the knuckles. But on other nights I feel the fingers move and I know they are my own.
You have to search for the person who left the window open, down all the alleys of yourself. In the end you'll get there. You'll learn how you betrayed yourself in the moment that seemed like any other moment. Solution? Don't be too self-centred and egoistic. You think you can cope on your own but you will only end up hurting yourself.
When blackmail comes into your house you can learn to live with it, feeding it as little as you dare, trying to guess what it will take to make it go away before it gets too big. Then you begin to realize that it will never go away. The more you feed it, the stronger it grows. Why should you feel guilty unless you've got something to hide? Why should you be afraid? Watch me shake out your life in front of you. You know what's in there, don't you? See what comes.
Some blackmailers just want money. That's frightening, but at least you know where you are, and that a wad of used money is what you are talking about. I haven't got money.
The others put on pressure without letting you know what they want. They steer you where you don't want to go, but in a way that's so intimate you have to give in. They know more about you than you know about yourself. The pressure comes from what they don't say. They wait and wait until you can't wait anymore, and you'll do anything to know why they've come. It begins to seem like freedom.
When blackmail comes tapping at the door, get up and open it. There'll be no one there. Just the yawn of a black night, with wind in it but no stars. Already there's wind hurrying through the house, licking the back of your knees as you stare out. Where is it coming from? That window at the back. Someone's around there already and through the slender gap like an eel. Already the curtains are whipping up, the doors are buckling, and the floorboards pitch and toss like the planks of a boat.
The wind blows harder and your house begins to move on a sea that was always there, beneath the crust of the land. And you're afraid, but you are already beginning to move with it. I'm afraid, very afraid... but not from you my dear elaine. Throwing shit at me feels so good! It's when the 'sweet', 'virgin', 'friendly' girl from inside my house comes to give me a gentle hug and kiss that I start to feel threatened and afraid... cos I know that blackmail is near. So please, just bring your criticism on. Make me feel safe... And anyways, like Billy the Freak, your writing makes me horny!
Yours Truly: Chris! (and yes, like you, I wrote and took your statements at the end of another god damned bad, fucking, hell of a day well out of context of life- cos I'm only existing- and I really don't know if my thoughts are egoistic. What I know is that I'm a very, very angry person, fucked in the head, schizophrenic, and mental, and this time I had to get it out somewhere, on someone... before I go crazier)
See ya all... I don't know when, where or how!
|16 Mar 2004||billy the freak||man-o-man elaine the vigorous insight you spoke in your last entry made me horny... are you cute? i bet you are.
now chris, putting people down, because they may not be as creative as you isn't right.
however, i enjoy your posts immensely and they do spit flames on to the board. i blame myself for the lackluster in the kit, i wish i could post more often.
joe lee, all i can say is you are one sick fuck i thought i was twisted. i read your post about going to hell and laughed so hard the pepsi i was drinking came out my nose.
and last but not least kids, have you realized that mouchette is not just a message board, but a interactive piece of art? well, more like an art gallery that not only lets you enjoy what you're seeing but will often ask your opinion. look everywhere. and check out the links in the m.org.ue some are pretty interesting.
"come play with me" says mouchette. captivated by her beauty i can't help but frolic through her halls.
|13 Mar 2004||billy the freak|| a friend of mine commited suicide yesterday. i helped him. i knew he was going to do it. it was obvious when the day before he gave me his playstation2 and all his games.
"here billy. i know you been saving up to get a playstation2, just hold on to the money, you can have mine."
"wait a minute. you're giving that to me?"
"you're not going to come back here next week and say you want that shit back."
"no. just enjoy it as much as i did."
i knew then he was going to snuff it. that playstation was his pride and joy. he got lost in those games so he didn't have to think about the real world. a streetlight went on in my vacant lot of a mind.
"man, it's about time cid."
"about time for what?"
"you know. you decided to kill yourself right."
"don't try to talk me out of it billy. i made up my mind."
"i wouldn't do such a thing. i agree with you.
"you want me to die."
"no. you want to die and i support your decision. i mean, your girlfriend left you, your mom and dad both died in a car accident on the way to bail you out of jail for public drunkeness, you lost your job, oh and didn't somebody poison your dog? yeah, i would want to die too."
he sat down and started to cry. he filled up about a bucket and a half with tears. he just kept saying i wanna die... i wanna die... and pounded the side of his head. he was breaking down. it was time to put my plan into action.
"so when did you want to do it cid?"
"i was going to do it tomorrow afternoon."
"well okay, but let me ask you something don't you think that if you were going to take the dive wouldn't you want to do it it the most pleasurable way possible?"
"what do you mean?"
"well what makes you happy cid?"
"i haven't been happy in a long time billy."
"what's made you happy in the past."
"well, my mom and dad always put up a pinyata on my birthday as a kid. i always was happy on my birthday."
"that's it cid."
"i'll tell you at the dinner, let's get a hamburger my treat."
i told him that i could make his last moments as happy as possible for a price.
he gave me access to his bank account. i cleaned it out. hell he didn't need it! i set his suicide up with with a birthday theme. we had a party on the apartment roof. no one came except me and and a bum who was happy to get free beer. i got some cake and ice cream, party hats, banners, gifts, and everything to make his last birthday special. the finishing touch was i turned him into a human pinyata so when he hit the ground he would bust open and candy and small toys would pour out.
"wow billy, i didn't know i could be so excited about death."
"hey with me you get your dollars worth. any way it's your birthday you deserve to be excited."
"billy thanks for everything but today is not my birthday, it's my deathday"
he started to laugh. i started to laugh. the bum started to laugh because everyone else was laughing. the moment was surreal. he must have thought it was time to go because he blew out his candles and stood on the edge of the roof and fell into eternity. i looked down and saw that the christians already showed up. they helped themselves to the candy and and munched on the thought that cid went to hell and in the bitter sweet moment i realised that I was going to hell.
|08 Mar 2004||elaine||Nice job Chris, for critisizing the rest of the world who can't help being dull in their agony, even if it is self centered and fake. I'm sure i'm just in a terrible mood and will regret taking it out on you soon, but honestly, find your buzz somewhere else. Mouchette.org isn''t here to entertain YOU, it's here for people to tell their stories and find sympathy and compassion in others. Imaginary or no.
I take that back. It's here for people to give mouchette advice on elements to include in her revolutionary new toy. Except people have turned it into a "typical" suicide message board. Maybe because they need that?
Maybe. Get over yourself and your witty stories, not everyone can measure up to the likes of you and the "gang" but they don't deserve your scorn.
Yes, i'm taking your one little statement at the end of another god damned entry way of out context and taking too much from it. I guess i'm just bothered by people's innate tendancy towards self-absorption. Does it bother you?
It kills me.
This isn't a new thought, but occurs to me that an obsession with suicide is really an obsession with oneself turned morbid. "People dont love ME. I'M ugly. I will always be alone. ME." Your parents/significant other beats you, reason to be sad, maybe. But get out, just leave. You're depressed for these reasons because you see the way they can do that to you as a reflection of your own personality. And so back to ME.
And maybe that's just me, but that's how i see the thoughts i used to have about suicide as. And i see it reflected every day in almost everyone close to me who hates themselves and wants to die. My friend who's impatient again at the hospital for cutting herself, my friend who wants to die because a girl doesn't love him, so many more their stories are all the same' it's not worth telling.
I'm talking complete shit, but i know it must bother someone else. It drives me crazy, how i can't step outside my own world and my own concerns even for a minute. Ulterior motives, is charity like they speak of in the bible real?
I give up. I'm sorry to have started that way. I'm sorry to post this, but some things need to be said before I go crazy. ME. Again. I wonder if someday i'll be able to understand my own hypocracy. No, not understand. Take. I wonder if some day i'll be able to take my own fucking egoism.
|06 Mar 2004||Chris||Someone performed a favour for me the other day and when I thanked him he replied: "no problem, it was the least I could do". Read that again out loud and then think about what he actually told me. Have you come to the same conclusion as I did... he had analysed all of his options, thought about everything that he could have done for me, sorted out every alternative and discarded every last one except the very least. Yes, what he so proudly told me was, that of all the things he could have done as a favour for me, the one that he chose was the minimum that he could get away with, while still saying that he had done something. Of course what he meant was, more less, the exact opposite of what the bare words really mean and he became suitably flustered (enough to amuse me anyway) when I asked him what the most he could have done would have been.
Anyway, because I have little else to think about, I took to pondering other common phrases, for example what do you know for sure about the phrase 'with all due respect'? I can tell you that in ninety nine point nine per-cent of cases what will follow those words, when they are directed at you, is proof that the speaker thinks that no respect is due to you at all. He will promptly tear to pieces; a) your opinion, b) your character or c) your appearance. What springs to mind when someone prefaces what they are to tell you with these words: 'to tell the honest truth...' as opposed to the barefaced lies and cunning half truths that they normally tell you? Ask yourself why, if this is an honest person speaking, does he or she feel compelled to convince you that what they are telling is true... But then, normal people are all the same: big, fat, happy liers who want to live through the next twenty-four hours, make cash out of your simplicity and cover their weirdness and shit under the cover of love and art, making us feel suicidal all the time!
Finally, to a different subject but still related (loosely) to words... mouchette.org has descended into, how shall we say, obnoxious, weird, repetitive words! I read everyone's posts and I understand and sympathise with everyone of you... but you're all saying the same thing! There were times when I was criticised because of my writings, but come tell me that now! We need to put some zest and life back into mouchette.org or it will become just like all the other suicide boards. Felicia The Great, Billy The Freak, Phil, take note (and come back) and for God's sake Dr.Jelly, either release Joe Lee from the physchiatric ward or at least just let him use the internet service, cos we need him! (Whatever you do, just keep him off any kind of medication, he's more sane without it than with it, we all are...)
See ya in an (ironically) livelier mouchette.org...
|05 Mar 2004||mauvaissouhait||This is for Chris... It's me, i'm so sorry i havent been able to contact you sooner. But thank you so much for calling. I'm missed you immensely. I don't have internet anymore. I'm at school right now though, using theirs. You can call me anytime you'd like, hun. Or write me a letter. Send it to me. I think i may have given you my address. I dont quite remember. But i've missed you. I lost your e-mail address.. So next time you call, or if you do write me an e-mail. I probably won' be checking into this site much. But just know that i'm alright. But we should still keep talking, somehow. I have to go though. I love you. Bye|
|01 Mar 2004||suicide chick||slit yourself in every way known to man and drown in a bucket you've collected of your blood. Dont forget to leave a note for your friends and family telling them that you simply didnt want to live anymore..... this one is for you will and chris i love you guys with all of my heart and would be proud if you died this way...... with me of course|
|18 Feb 2004||Bryan||boo hoo caz, didnt you get the new thinkpad for christmas and taking it out on us? Or was it the ski vacation to vail that isn't happening?|
|17 Feb 2004||Caz||Oh yes, "toughen up" kids because obviously the only reason why someone would want to commit suicide is because one doesn't look like Paris Hilton or Nichole Richie.
You fucking twat, what about all those people who have been bullied all their lives, to have actually made believe you're fucking worth nothing so why the hell should u be here?
Or about those people who have been abused through out their lives, yeah, stupid kids, deal with it!
Oh and lets not forget, a kid who's just recently lost their mother to domestic violence or something worse, your fucking whole world crumbles and not everyone can be as tough and deal with it.
And how can u blame a kid's parents for letting them get depressed?
You can't give those kinds of opinions if you havent got an idea of what you're actually talking about.
Not everyone wants to die just coz they got dumped or they can't look like Christina Aguilera.
Sometimes there's a bit more to it and there are people out there who can actually make a difference.
|05 Feb 2004||Chris||Recently I was enthroned in the bathroom which, for reasons obvious to anyone who has been unlucky enough to follow me in, is the one place on earth where I am left undisturbed, and my gaze wandered to the contents of the shelves. I am not referring to the books and magazines which I always like to have at hand, I did say this is a place of peace and retreat for me as well as the functional. I mean the dozens of bottles, canisters, jars, etc which we all seem to need to make ourselves presentable. And a thought struck me... how come with half of the world starving do we have so much fruit and veg in our shampoos and soaps. I am sure that my bathroom is pretty average and really taking a close look I was amazed at the sheer variety of flavours on offer. From the mint in the toothpaste the list grows and grows; lemon, lime, pineapple, coconut, orange, cucumber and dates, and that's just the shampoos. I am not counting Aloe Vera or Jojoba because I really don't know what they are or if they are edible but they certainly form a big part of my mother's beauty regime judging by the number of products which include them as ingredients. Then there are the soaps, creams and ointments which boast cherry, blueberry, primrose, oil, carrot, yes carrots in the soap! There is even a bottle of chocolate bath bubbles but that is mine, and I'm saving it for emergencies. There are various other things which claim essence of this and that but again I'm not sure what they are. There is also a packet of scented (camomile) toilet paper, the function and practicality of which even defies my odd imagination and I'm not even touching the realm of air fresheners and things which make water turn blue in the toilet bowl. The fact is our bathrooms are host to more tastes and aromas than Harrod's Food Hall but that's not it... they all claim to be able to do their various tasks with sound effects... the soap 'zings'! The shampoo puts 'zest' into your shower! The sprays 'zap'! And the bleach 'blasts'... now I think about it, the bathroom has stopped being my peaceful refuge but it has become a terrific place to dream up recipes... Maybe that will put my mind off suicide!
See ya all in the bathroom!
|29 Jan 2004||Chris||Yeah, I'm still alive, and this time its me writing. No Lucifer and devil games. I wonder how many of you really got the joke and irony of the Lucifer thing but this time around there's absolutely nothing to fear for it is me; good, old Chris.
2004 is almost a month old and still wheeling around its temper tantrums like a new-born baby, babbling and gaaing and waking you up in the middle of the night with a splitting headache. Which reminds you that the party is over and you need to start clearing the remains of the old year which has just given up its fight for life.
Thankfully, the Christmas decorations have been mysteriously disappearing on their own and you have already binned the Christmas cards and unwanted presents at your mum's. Speaking of presents, Santa has got it wrong once again and all you want to do is beat him and all his freaking elves to death with your bare hands and then crawl under the covers for a long, long sleep.
It's amazing how quickly you can go off a year. I was quite enjoying 2004 to begin with. I thought it seemed like my kind of annum. Relaxing, peaceful, quiet. I was getting along just fine, for the first 2 days at least. Until the third day at 6:30am, when my alarm went off and ruined everything. And it juyst went downhill from there. The lukewarm shower. Stumbling around in the dark to get dressed. Getting out to catch the bus to college, with half the hungover in the country sharing our our lane and the next one without signalling their indicator.
In other words, it is all depressingly similar to 2003, only with a few extra irritations thrown in for good measure. Having to deal with 10 days' worth of post and e-mail and bankcrupty are special joys that are reserved at the start of the year. And then, of course, there's the great post-Christmas catch up, in which every person at college has to go round seperately and ask every other person in the place what they did for New Year. And everyone says that they went to a party, got really drunk and that it was a bit rubbish and they think they'll stay in next year,
Despite the setbacks, it's remarkable how optimistic so many of us still are at this time of year. After all, less than a month has passed since 2004 tapped us on the shoulder while we were exchanging champagne-flavored snogging. It must be our instinct of hope, fuelled by the great family festival of Christmas followed by the arbitrary flip of New Year. Sort out the problems by Christmas, the belief goes, and come the New Year, fortune will shine. 2004 will be better than 2003.
|29 Jan 2004||Chris||...This sense of hope also includes those fateful minutes during which we all look back across the year that has just passed and congratulate ourselves on our narrow escape from cholera, neighbours, superstition and sabre-toothed tigers. Then we get out the crystal ball, dust it and try to locate ourselves in the river of time that is 2004. Yes, we humans are obsessed with possible futures and time, because they are the ones which kill us. What we don't realise is that time contains every paradox. It shrinks, it stretches, it flies, it drags. It varies relativistically acccording to the spread of the observer. Consider the following mystery- a mouse barely lives three years; an elephant could survive for sixty. But a mouse's heart beats 700 times a minute and an elephant's beats 30 times a minute- they are both around for a billion heartbeats. So do both lifetimes feel like a lifetime?
Given the ambiguity of limited edition time, we cannot predict the future. What I think will happen may not happen, I may be utterly wrong, and I usually am. But this does not stop me from taking out a fag and making some predictions about the shape of things to come in 2004, the year of the monkey according to the Chinese calendar. The same calendar says that children born in 2004 will like reading, are good at remembering the things they read and might become famous. Monkey children also like to be busy.
Following the latter precept, we are all monkey children in January, because we all keep ourselves busy in the next few weeks by spending much of our spare time either buying things or worrying about buying things. I understand that the last thing we want to do right now, while we are still feeling the effects of all the turkey and Christmas pudding, is anything too active. And we've just spent loads of money on presents. But surely this won't stop us from keeping the first and last resolution we made when the clock was ticking off the last of 2003- the January sales. We will forsake everything and replete with sleeping bag and supplies, shack up in the entrance to department stores for the chance of a once in a lifetime 90% off three piece suite. We will shop and suffer while questioning our relationship with the root of all evil- money. Our bank manager will eventually go mad.
|29 Jan 2004||Chris||....January is also the time when most of us will go on diets because we feel like we have to take ourselves in hand, as though we've been naughty and need to police ourselves. Most people will have allowed themselves what they consider to be an indulgence over Christmas and, unfortunately, instead of January being a slosh period of pleasure, it will invoke terrible anguish and guilt.
For football fanatics, January heralds the opening of the player transfer window, through which I would like to throw a brick. Year after year, overpaid players who have spent the first half of the season on the substitutes' bench doing crossword puzzles get transferred to other clubs, where they spend the second half of the season on the substitutes' bench, playing with their cell phones. The chances are that some of them will end up playing for Inter (stupid Italian team), or Wolves (stupid English team). etc!
Come February, and love will come to town with cooing noises. Valentine's day is all about heartfelt romantic gestures and sacrificial offerings on the altar of true lurve. Cards will be carefully selected for their meanings, anonymous messages cautiously composed, envelopes sealed with a loving kiss and sensous bundles of flowers will either start up or reaffirm a love affair. Although it may just be another marketing opportunity we still fall for it and go shopping again all over the place, where you can't go walking without being virtually assaulted by large photographs of young ladies wearing, if that's possible, even less then they would in a lingerie ad. You can't enter a cafeteria without stumbling across mountains of heart-shaped biscuits and piles of chocolate cupids. You can't switch on the telly without seeing florist on obscure stations, giving a lesson in floral etiquette- a white rose for eternal love, a red rose for passion, a carnation for sincerity, a tulip for a first love. You can't open the newspaper without being told where to go and eat tonight, where best to snog and where to buy those last minute frillies.
March is spring, time to wake up that body and realise the January diet didn't work at all. Sunshine and spring flowers bring with them a new optimism, so the next few days are a great time to divest yourself of bad habits and make some new resolutions which will suffer the same ending as your January ones. Yourself and other town mice will get out your station wagon and armed with green footballs and enough good food to last the World War will attack the countryside, where yours truly lives. You'll bring down the rubble walls while your kids eat all the green things running about, including the football.
April is a month for the egg-centrics. Our feasts and holidays are mostly lame excuses to eat chocolates and buy presents, and Easter is one of them. Yet this one is preceded with a period of fasting, which means we will eat larger amounts to compensate for having had to faint while drinking black coffee for a couple of days. Then out come the bunnies and eggs, while we wag our tails and munch our way to more resolutions.
May will see the nearing to begin of examinations for school children and college students. Everyone is tensed up. Screaming is done by kids, parents and their teachers. The kids really don't want to do it but there's not much choice, especially if father promised to buy a new bicycle or computer if good grades are won. Depression, tension and migraine loom in the air and no one gets a rest...
And when June comes, one would realise that there was only screaming and tension during May and so no real work or studying was done! So June will either see you toil for your exams or fanning your way through heat and carcades celebrating the Euro 2004 taking place in Portugal. Qualifying for Euro 2004 dominated the international football calendar in 2003, and the finals will kick off with Portugal versus Greece on June 12, at the O Dragao stadium in Porto. These will be 23 days that will shake the world, with those heart stopping moments when a penalty shoot-out goes wrong or an Italian player fakes injury. Workers will protest for time off while the fans go out and try to kill each other with words and accusations from one car to another as honking cars' fans shake our already shaken streets.
Nothing happens in July, except that most of you start your half-days. Otherwise, it will be a normal month. We will drive like maniacs, lean on the horn and yell obscenities at fellow motorists. We will be involved in accidents, although it will always be their fault or blame the women drivers. We will also see the first signs of sunburns, despite all the Health Promotion Department's warnings. Workers will be more careless and not wear their safety gear. Illegal immigrants will infiltrate Europe from Africa and start landing all over the place.
August will see feasts peaking, accompanied by the sound of fireworks setting off car alarms. There will be a huge debate over abolishing fireworks, but plans will go up in smoke, since fireworks are inherent to man and our strangely creative and simultaneously destructive nature. But at least, I hope we will start making sense. I can appreciate the swish and colours of fireworks, but the accompanying petard bang is absurd as a Beckett play.
It is almost certain that the month of September will follow August, and it will be back to school blues again and a flurry of shopping. Kids will carry heavier satchels too, as well as sports shoes, colour coded plastic covers and stationery. Mini-buses will start roaming our streets again, carrying more students than they are supposed to and swerving in and out of traffic with two dozen young lives stuck to the fake leather seats.
October, and the weather starts cooling a bit with the promise of winter. Out come winter clothes and more food to keep us warm, making us almost the fattest men and the fattest women in the world while enjoying a frightening obesity rate. For those who don't get it, a fat child is not a sign of wealth and health, but of sickness. Despite their airing, new TV schedules will still retain their musty air and filling us with more crap talk shows and long forgotten or never heard of movies, which are crap anyway.
November will get us thinking about money management, and then see us start the preperations for yet another Christmas and New Year, thus coming full circle from where 2004 all started. 2004 will be just like 2003, and 2002, and the impact of the accelerating growth of science, technology, population, globalisation, radical belief systems and kids will form the complex of crises we will have. Yet only one thing is certain for the future. Just as we fervently believe we are living in a special year, and are a special generation witnessing a huge turning point in human affairs, so will our grandchildren and their grandchildren. Every generation thinks the same, and they're always just a little bit wrong.
So 2004 will either be boring or a year of unexpected happenings. Maybe the Beagle 2 space probe will be found and so will little green Martians. Space travel will increase and as colonists, we will be able to tax the Martians. Time travel, however, I cannot see happening. It took the great Stephen Hawking to point out the obvious objection- that if it were possible, surely we would have seen tourists from the fututure by now? We will kill no one and nothing but time, North and South Korea will shake hands and so will the Middle East. We will be more cultural people and read more. People in cinemas will behave as civilised people and those in theatres will not laugh during Hamlet. What a surprising year that would be.
And maybe the world will get better in 2004. This well-wishing has become a tradition year after year, like actors wishing for peace during their Oscar speech. Like most traditions, it is as empty as your toothpaste tube, but we still do it, hoping there will be no earthquakes which kill 40,000 people and Iraq will become a popular tourist destination. Berlusconi will bite his tongue before blurting out things and Mr Blair will get no more embarrasments.
There is an old joke which asks "How do you make God laugh?" The answer- "Tell him about your plans". So don't make any for 2004. Maybe it will be like 2003, maybe it won't. Just think that the future need not be as bleak as it was in the past.
Cya all in the dreamy future...
|25 Jan 2004||Lauren||ive just taken about half the pills. thanx 2 whoever readmy wemails.someonr actually listened for once. thankyou. once i've taken them im going to the bridge and im going tohhang my serklf. thankuo. everyine on trhgis site has reaklly unfkluerncved ne buty uity werenmt enuf. respecially chris. sorry|
|25 Jan 2004||Lauren||chris- sounds stupid but your writing/the way you talk about all this shit is so REAL. you give a shit bout most of the guys on this site and unlike some fucking shrink you actually know what people r going thru. how old are u cos the way you rite its like your more than 30|