|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?
|07 Mar 2009||Loki||You kids need to realize that suicide is one of the most selfish things a human being can do. If you believe in the christian heaven and hell, you should check out dante's dream about hell in his book "inferno", and see where he meets "the suicides" and then see how that corrollates with the christian bible on what happens to those who destroy god's temple in self-righteousness, disowning the laws of both man and god. As an atheist, it took more than that for me, but for you tweens (no disrespect), that might be enough to reconsider. I've tried twice, and vowed to do it the right way the next time, but even the dark side of me is repulsed by the creator of this page and the people who claim to be adults giving advice to thirteen-year-olds on the right way. Fucking sick. Your feelings are very real and very important and even though it seems nobody cares or understands, somebody does. Try me. And for you fucking sick pedophilic sadistic chickenhawks with the advice... You can try me, too.|
|28 Feb 2009||Chrismas jones collective||This is typical mouchellette,
You've had me possesse since a little boy, please...
|23 Feb 2009||Christian (My name, yes)||If you're under 13 all you have to do is ask your parents if you can go to a shooting range. You can plan when you are going to do this so you can be sure you are ready. You may want to go shooting a few times first to get used to firearms (What I plan on doing) so that you dont make a mistake when you shoot yourself. The best thing to do is aim a pistol at point blank range to your head and squeze the trigger and you will lose all of the pain you have. The setbacks are that someone is going to have to clean up once your dead, your parents might not let you go, and that if you aim the pistol at your head and you wimp out your life will be fucked up... Only do this when your ready.|
|23 Feb 2009||Christmas jones||I'm not sure that I live here anymore...
|23 Feb 2009||christmas jones||I doubt that tonight will be different, so I once again shall skip out and not answer your originaly asked question mouchette.
I feel like the whole cities being constructed ontop of me. Like all the filthy ad space and electric lighting are engulfing me. I hate to talk like this but my reccent thoughts are blurry and confusing and only lead up to cliché descriptions like that.
I just hate waking up feeling so shitty from this.
And my memmories, they're slipping, I'm in and out of day dreams and there are so many loose ends in my head. If someone asked me how my weekend was, tommorow, I don't think I'd know what to say.
I'm emptying out of responces to the real world... and everything is becoming more and more orwellian amd surreal.
I cant help but try to burst out with emotion, just to see if i have any left...
maybe this fever will overcome me and I'll get to sleep sound through these confusing weather patterns.
|10 Feb 2009||Amon||Become a born-again Christian. It's not suicide exactly, but you won't be living your life, that's for damned sure.|
|17 Jan 2009||Jolo||I've been coming to this site for a little more than two years.
so, here it goes...
My life, I have a good life, Loving family, alot of loving friends. Do you think I'm happy? Do you?
No I'm not, after all the good things I've been through, I don't feel it. I HATE MYSELF! I'm just a small sack off shit wating to decompose. I haven't done anything right. Unless wrong is right, then Ive done alot of it! My life isn't fucked up, I AM! People around me love me, even if they tease me all the time I know they love me, or at least I think they do. I love them, especially my parents. Why am I here? That's because I don't deserve to live, my life is to good for me! They give me their best and I give them my worst. What kind of person am I! Oh yeah, I'm the sorry sack of shit! I hope I have some pills right now! To add to the dissapointment, It's our junior prom on Feb. I don't have a date! I'm a fucking loser! Why did I exist in the first place! I have no use in this world. I'm just another waste of resources.
When I was 7 I always wanted to take pictures, but at 9 something felt wrong, I felt that I was the only one different. Since then I avoided taking pictures, unless people force me. Now I'm 16, still a useless pile of shit! I cut myself, I burn myself, I started smoking just because of the fact that it could kill, I even drink this fuel for model cars, which kinda taste like 3 times the strongest tequila you've ever drunk, because it has the skull and crossbones logo, poison! can Kill! Yeah right I've been drinking it for a month and nothing happens.
What am I gonna do now? should I kill myself now and save the others? or should I just let life fuck me as it already does.
If there are an Christians out there Pls pray for me, so that I could have a date for the prom, maybe that's just the pathetic reason why I'm so depressed. Oh well, I doubt that even having my dream girl would put me out of this misery.
Pls help me. If it's death or a good life, you wish for me, thank you for your prayers
|13 Jan 2009||Hi im Jesus H. Christ!||eat a lot of peanuts untill they get stuck in ur anus and u cant pooh anymore, so you explode. it happened to my friends puppy once. TRY IT! ............wow im wierd. sorry.|
|04 Jan 2009||spookypenguin||Bob Dylan - not my words, but my prospective.
Christmas Jonnes - When i feel like the whitey asshole i am.
the poets entourage - I cringe at my own idealism
death - fun times
Spooky Penguin - me
|25 Dec 2008||Waiting||Do you know what I just realized today? I just come to the conclusion that the only time my "friends" give a shit about me is when they think I maybe dead. It just goes to show how empty and heartless people are nowadays. Oh, and happy christmas or whatever you celebrate this time of year Mouchette, I hope that you love life better than I do.|
|18 Dec 2008||Aureus||Dear Mouchette,
All I want for Christmas is exsanguination.
|11 Dec 2008||Christmas Jones||So I lay down a while
And I gaze at my hotel wall
Oh the cot is so cold
It don't feel like no bed at all
Yeah I lay down a while
And I gaze at my hotel wall
But he's down on the street
So I throw both his bags down the hall
And I'm phoning a cab
'Cause my stomach feels small
There's a taste in my mouth
And it's no taste at all
It could have been me
Oh yeah, it could have been me
Why didn't I say,
Why didn't I say, no, no, no
|08 Dec 2008||Kuborion||Girl of sixteen
Whole life ahead of her
Slashed her wrists
Bored with life
Thank the Lord
For small mercies
Fighting back the tears
Mother reads the note again
Sixteen candles burn in her mind
She takes the blame
It's always the same
She goes down on her knees and prays
I don't want to start
Any blasphemous rumours
But I think that God's
Got a sick sense of humour
And when I die
I expect to find Him laughing
Girl of eighteen
Fell in love with everything
Found new life
In Jesus Christ
Hit by a car
On a life support machine
As she passed away
Birds were singing
In the summer sky
Then came the rain
And once again
A tear fell
From her mother's eye
I don't want to start
Any blasphemous rumours
But I think that God's
Got a sick sense of humour
And when I die
I expect to find Him laughing
|03 Dec 2008||Chris||when you try so hard and so long without success, when you can not sleep st night and the pain is crushing you. When there is nobody who undderstands you and the ones you talk to laugh at you. When people tell you "thats the stupiest thing to do". When you are 30 and you never felt love in your life - neither to give nor to take. When everything around you annoys you. When you wear a mask in front of everyone to keep your job and not to be thrown in an mental institute, because nobody understands you. When you are different and you cant say why. When nothing that you ever do really is fun. When youu cant remember the last time that you laughed. When you keep crying at night and there is nobody to care for you. When loneliness is the way of life. When you are too ugly and no girl considers you... When all hope is gone and despite waiting big time, it doesnt feel better. When you dont believe in miracles any longer.... all that is me. And dont you dare telling me that I dont have right for it!|
|14 Nov 2008||cecilia||Hey my name is Cecilia and yea ive had enough to read of this suicide nonsense but i mean im willing to listen to you if you have problems no one should encourage anyone to commit suicide thats not the answer for any problems whats so ever. If you really want to commit suicide or on the verge of doing it just email me firstname.lastname@example.org. look not to get religous or anyhting but shit if god (i am christian) put you through the horrible situations he did then what makes you think he went help you get out of them? not everyones life is going to go perfect your going to have the good things and the bad things break ups and divorces losing people you love and any other problems you got but i promise you, you will get over it and life will go on. it wont be the end of the world for you if something bad happens to you or anyone else becuse thats what life is it helps you grow and learn lessons each day you may not like them but everyones going to go thru them so please dont kill yourself please i recenntly lost a really good friends of mine his name was A.J. Munoz and he comitted suice not to long ago it was a day before his birthday august 10 i believe well yea that hurt me so much im still not over it to this day but like i said life goes on so just remeber that if you feel as if your life isnt gunna get any better because it will and i can promise you that it may not be the very next day or the next month but just hold your head up high cause you gotta people that love and care for you that you may not know like me like i said if you ever need to talk just write me email@example.com haha cause other girl will stick to your side like i will and i put my word on that<333
|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:
He saw the shadow of an Average Man
Attempting the exceptional, and ran.
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.
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.
|13 Oct 2008||Christmas Jones||Kurt Vonnegut put it best,
"No damn cat, no damn cradle."
In other words everything is fucking absurd. I mean have you looked at the debt lately,
10 trillion fucking dollars, the giant sign that is supposed to keep track of the debt doesn't even have enough spaces for that number. Everything is absurd. Suicide is a fine idea these days, I just hope everything is not as absurd on the other side. Is heaven in a bloody recession too!?!
|16 Aug 2008||Hazel.||For the past year and a half iv been seeing a psychiatrist/psychologist and she just told me that she can't do anything to help me. I selfharm, though I've only cut twice in the past 7months (woo) and only done minimal things on the odd occasion. I have my reasons, but I thought I was moving on, 6months is a freaking long time for someone who did it around every second day for 2years straight. My parents just got a letter through, my psychiartist has reffered me to a mental clinic, and im crapping myself. They've asked for my parents to go with me, which is stupid, coz iv never talked to my parents about anything serious. When they found out I cut myself, we talked about it for about an hour, and that was more than a year and a half ago. When I found the letter, I cried for 10minutes, and don't want to go. I haven't talked to or looked my parents in the eye since I read it, but Im dreading the time they talk to me about it. It's on the 2nd of september, and I don't want to go. Sure it might help, but... whatever.
If there's any christians (or non christians that want to help) i'd love it if you could pray for me. I don't know how I'm going to go through with it, but I know I need to.
Woaw, how positive am I :)
I'm worried, coz my mind is making me want to smoke and drink, thinking it will help, but I wont let it get into my life. I want to be happy and not constantly analysing my life, my thoughts and everything I do/say. Im not satisphied with what I have or am now, I used to be, but something changed.
Please pray for me, it'd give me confidence and maybe help me talk to my parents/ psychiatrist. I'd love to be able to be open and not scared. Please pray, I want to be happy, and not have to worry about not being happy.
You can email me with words of enthusiasm if you must XD
Wouldn't mind it a bit.
|14 Aug 2008||JESUS CHRIST ATTORNEY AT LAW||smoke cigarettes, it's common sense.
|23 Jul 2008||chris||Christ, do I have to be so obvious as to drill the answer into your skull? - Wait, Ill be killing you and that will be putting you out of your misery So here is my second attempt at an answer: DONT COMMIT SUICIDE! Throwing your life away is some mamby pamby, nuevo riche thing that most people think about, and for some reason or other they are still alive and thinking about it and not dead and not thinking about it or not reading this tripe! God, my great grandparents fled Alsace with nothing but the clothes on their backs in 1880 just so they wouldnt get killed in the Franco-Prussian war, moved to America and worked 10 hours a day, six days a week to make a living. Did they think about how bad it was? Did they think of committing suicide? HELL NO!!!! They were too damn busy struggling to put food on the table to think of such crap. They had the balls to deal with lifeDo me a favor kid; find a hobby to occupy your time and forget this suicide shtick before you or someone really zap themselves.|