|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?
|20 Dec 2003||Chris||I know you've been waiting for a continuation of 9th December's post. So here it comes...
Anyway, the potatoes (yeah, you remember I was boiling potatoes) were done. I got off bed which juttted out of a double-doored closet and went into the coffin-sized kitchen, 'kitchenette' was the euphemism used on the For Rent sign. I grabbed the handle of the pan in a hot pad, held the lid loosely over the top and poured the hot water into the sink, devastating as I did a long column of ants marching over the porcelain on their way to the cupboard. Then I let the potatoes roll and bump out onto my plate, four dead boiled potatoes. I took them into the other room and sat down on the edge of the bed to eat.
There was one window in the room and the raspberry-coloured walls added to the gloom. As I put forkfuls of potato in my mouth and they formed a metallic-tasting mucilage, I told myself I had to learn to cook. I was a long way from the quite good food you eat in average restaurants, let alone the posh ones. Maybe I could check out a cookbook from the library. I had lots of time to learn to cook...
I began to have the idea I didn't know what I was. It seemed I had, once, but apparently I had thought I was what I was doing. That had been all right when I had been a boy who was always happy, a dreamer who dreamed about love and changing the world into a better place, a good boy who studied and worked hard at school, a boy who made people laugh with him instead of at him and a boy who had an enthusiasm for life in general, California style bon vivant. But to apply the same standard now to the 'all dreams shattered', loveless, non-enthusiastic approach, miserable creature lying on a bed at noon in a cheap room, lunching on boiled potatoes, that called for a conclusion about myself that I didn't want to make.
Trying to see myself from the point of view of other people didn't help. I barely know other people and they all seem stupidly the same. And still I couldn't feel the guilt of anything I've done in life and I still couldn't understand why people always laugh at me or say stupid things about me in hushed tones. None of the things I thought of helped. I could really only concentrate on what lay immediately before me, the problems of studying and eating. However memory helped by hurting. Memory brought pain which obscured necessity. Love hadn't left me, only the people I had loved had. So my friends and my imaginary girlfriend remained to dart into my thoughts when I was at my most unprotected, remained to confuse my focus on survival.
It worked the other way round too, the need of surviving distorted my love. As now, lying back on the bed with my hand over my eyes, disgusted, depressed, breathing only because I had no choice, my imagination gave me my imaginary girlfriend and then mocked what I had been given. With the image of this 'girlfriend' came the thought that I had ommitted a noise in my catalogue of sounds, the trickling toilet in the bathroom. And as if that wasn't enough it had to be degraded even more. A girlfriend, and longing for a girlfriend, and a popular tune, a trickling toilet, a tune twisted into a parody for self-humiliation, the connections rushed into my mind, I had to admit the thought belonged to me, 'a trickling toilet in the next apartment, those stumbling words...' couldn't be what my heart meant!
I fixed my eyes on the raspberry ceiling. It was too ugly a hue to create an atmosphere of sentimentality, and the light bulb with its flowered cloth skirt had its own dime-store harshness. With a kind of relief I managed to fasten my mind on these things. The blotchy paint, the forty-watt bulb, and the skirt, handmade with a dirty, rough touch to it. These things told me where I was, told me I was Chris in a cheap room with lots of shit to study and work at and no better idea of what to do than lie on my back on a metal bed and examine the ceiling. I reached for a newspaper lying nearby and stared to read an article before I realised I had made a decision to stop wasting my time and work. But what could I do? How could I catch up with the rest? How was I to be as good as, or even better than the rest of the people who have been working their nuts off all year round? But then I realised, it didn't really matter what it was, I just knew that I had to do something, to move on in life, so maybe one day I could earn some proper money, to prove myself that I could do that much (because even if painfully, school and work are the only things going for me in life, so if I even fail in that, I'm pretty fucked!) So from today, I swear I'm gonna do more than just stare around and waste my time!
See ya slavin' your nuts off!
|19 Dec 2003||Mauvais2Dan||Yea, it seems like that is a problem. School, a job, or get kicked out. Simple thing would be school right? Ur 17 about like me. It isn't that bad. Most you'd have is what... a year maybe a year and half. Do correspondance to make up missed work. That way you can get out earlier and get you credits quicker. But if you actually like to work (and to me it seems as though you don't) then just get a job. I'm sure Arbys or McDonalds would hire you. They hire anyone... or maybe that's just around here. But you need to do something. By not doing anything you'll be out of the house... then what? a Slower suicide. You said you didn't want to hurt the ones who love you. So don't. Sorry if it sounds rude but: grow up! Get a job or get your ass back in school! And if things don't work out. Talk to me ok? You have my e-mail now. Best of luck.|
|19 Dec 2003||Leslie||Suffocate in a plastic bag without a warning label|
|19 Dec 2003||Dan||Well I'm not 13 or under I am actually 17 no job and have until january to get a job or get back in school or be kicked out of my mother's house. I screwed up big time by missing a lot of school and falling behind on many things and don't really know what to do now. If I get kicked out it's pretty much over I have nowhere to go and nothing to own. I have been dependent on others so much of my life and it really sux. Living with my mother has been great and I got a great computer and lots of games which I spend most my time playing. I have no problem at all going to sleep and saying I'll worry about it later but now it's piled up so bad I can't do that anymore. I used to consider suicide a few months ago when I started getting picked on in school but never actually did it, I guess I used it as an excuse not to really do anything with my life, thinking well who cares I can just kill myself. At times I thought it was funny and at times I couldn't think of a good way to do it. I hate pain and didn't want to hurt the ones that actually loved me and cared for me. I feel as though I owe my mother so much but don't have anything to offer. I'm confused and look down on myself a lot trying not to look to others even though I know I am. I did it to myself and can accept that. I know my problems aren't near as serious as others but I don't know what to do anymore.
I'll make another post later on more of the things I feel and am thinking but right now I just can't focus on them enough. I'm not sure what I'm looking to gain by posting this, if it's attention or what I really don't know, I don't even know the point but I figure I'd post and see what others say.
Thx for reading if ya did
|18 Dec 2003||ADLLLLLLLLLLLL||I dunno bout the 13 thing, but overdosing is great, take at least 30,35 pills of whatever.|
|18 Dec 2003||Bereavement||Under 13, huh? Well, your bones are probably really soft and easy to brake. Smoke up, drink up, and walk alone late at night picking fights. Almost guaranteed to get your skull smashed in. If not, OD seems a semi-popular trick; just down a couple with a ruby beverage, and you'll fall down the rabbit hole faster than you thought. Best of all, the most toxi things are found harmlessly beneath the sink. Just make sure you understand what it is you're doing.|
|18 Dec 2003||gonzalo vera mardel||i think that i f you are looking for death any way is effective but if you are looking for an artistic way to kill yourself, then it is another situation, you got to be more specific|
|17 Dec 2003||Felicia Ticked at the Music Industry||THIS IS TO THE MUSIC INDUSTRY INFLUENCE
I've found that there are many teenagers entering this website. The fact that I am old, I'm still young at heart, I am old when it comes to computerized or some wannabe folklore rock or rap that's gone bad. Criminy though, please don't get me wrong, but it seems the music I hear on the radio is getting worst. And....the lyrics of suicide along with illicit sex incantations are enormous. Basically, you're starting to hear the word "Fuck" all the time and the sounds of human moaning. Its like Led Zeppelin or Jim Morrison on acid, a million times over. I mean GOD FORBID! You skater boys, no offense sweeties--please note that I love humankind's well being, blast them earphones so damn loud, it's enough to give me a headache in a six feet distance or whatever.
In a nutshell, music nowadays, will make anybody.... just anybody want to commit suicide!
Do I make myself clear?
If I were you, please lower the volume, limit the negative music to positive lyrics, and read a book or go outside, surf skate, have sex, without the music blasting those freakin profanities, within a 6-mile radius.
And you damn top head music promoters condone it! What's the matter with you! If you guys wonder why kids become worst is "BECAUSE (YOU FREAKING ) LET THEM HEAR THEM!!! And now that this is the only music playing nowadays because you ALLOW it, the kids have come accustomed to it, and I have to hear it at work against my will!!!! Don't you know that if you keep doing this, all teens or kids will grow up to only "CUSS, FIGHT, AND BREED!!!" What kind of President will we have in the future YES .Osama Bin Laden, that BASTARD, will seem like a saint for goodness sake.
GOD! Even American Idol won't condone it. Simon, though everybody says he's asshole, it absolutely right on the nose! If these so called Musicians were to perform in front of Simon, he would say,
"That was ABSOLUTELY horrible!!!!!!"
For Christmas, I am going to buy all you music top head honchos, a American Idol Simon doll, set a spell on it to say insults, and it can haunt you like Linda Blair from the Exorcist!
|17 Dec 2003||take that bitch||grrrr. i fucking hate children. i want to kill them all except for the cute ones
hey i'm new, fuck, and um yeah. so help, i wanna kill myself. badly. or at least hurt myself. slitting your wrists suck. and is painful, and slow. i tried to do it in some tub, but my dad found me. motherfucker i wanna kill him.
the reason though is that i'm in love. ooh love. but he's an asshole though but i can't just brush it off you know, and he's the only thing i ever had like a whatchallcallit, something. grrr. i mean it's pathetic killing yourself out of some stupid guy, but still you don't understand.
|17 Dec 2003||Erica||I have been depressed for five years now. i know that suicide is a western luxury, but sometimes i just wish there was no more tomorrow to worry about. Today has been bad, i have been crying all day, i know that i am probably being stupid as there are things in my life to look forward to. i would starve myself to death, but i am not allowed, i have been anorexic for the same five years and my parents admit me into hospitals when ever i stop eating. having to eat regularly and maintaining a normal weight is hell, on top of that i am depressed and some days can only manage to wake up, let alone function. i do want to die, but i also desperately want to live. what can i say, don't give up y'all, happiness is an illusion, i never believed in it and i never will. it is the trying that they call happiness, trying to stay sane and looking after others, that is a form of 'happiness'.|
|16 Dec 2003||billy the freak||hello my friends. if you liked my latest post and fiend for more like a junky on drugs you may curb your craving by checking out my earlier post in mouchettes favorites archive found exclusively @mouchette.org. and please email me at my new adress. i love feedback and will responde to all.
have a good day.
|16 Dec 2003||billy the freak||:hey there looking at me, what it is you see. what is it about you that i adore? try to find some words i can use. don't got the courage to come up to you. my chances are looking a bit grey. i'm staring across the room. are you leaving soon? i just need a little time. oh no it happened again walked away with her boyfriend maybe we'll meet again someday... someday...
i found myself in a bar room with my best friend searching for something. cigarette smoke loomed in air and made everyone look fuzzy through its transparent wisps of death. the smell of alcohol was bitter, the taste was sweet. i found it.
she was dancing by the juke box. the light shining off her soft milky skin made her look heavenly... like some sort of fallen angel. i imagined two bloody stumps where her wing should have been and was insanely aroused. when i felt the twitch below my belt i decided to order another drink.
"bartender... a double of rum and a beer to chase them down." he assured me that he got my order by repeating it back to me using different words.
"a twin pirate boiler maker coming right up." i gave him a quick nod and pat my friend's shoulder to get his attention.
"hey, look over there by the juke box... my angel." he looked over by the juke box then back at me.
"she's alright... i guess." i was outraged by his response.
"she's alright... you guess." i mocked him in a unpleasent tone. "man, she looks like heather gram."
"yeah, a skinny heather gram" he said, matter of factly.
"dude, she's not skinny!" i snapped at him.
"you're right, she's not skinny." he said with with a smile. "she's anorexic."
"fuck you asshole, you don't know what your talking about. she is beautiful and i'm going to go talk to her" i said, just about spitting in his face.
"alright man, you know i was just goofing around". my buddy jay always has jokes, and he knows me better then anyone. that's why i love him. "if you're going to go over there, you need to calm down and think of something to say, or you're just going to choke up again."
he was absolutely right. what was i going to say? i have a bad problem with my words slipping out my mouth and falling to the floor. it is embarrassing when i got to pick them up. i shot down my rum and drank my beer, then it hit me. i will simply tell her she looks like heather gram.
i got up and took off in the direction of the juke box. my heart started thumping. i passed the pool tables. my head started spinning and instead of going straight i turned left and headed right into the bathroom into the stall onto my knees and puked. i insantly felt better and figured i would relieve my bladder while i was in there.
i walked over to the sink and looked in the mirror. i looked horrible. i washed my face and rinced out my mouth the best i could. i choked and this time i didn't even get to talk to her. i felt pathetic. i looked in the mirror one last time. i siked myself up the best i could, because i wasn't going down without a fight. i told myself... i told myself i could do this.
i came out the bathroom with my head high and my intentions set, but something was wrong. i couldn't find my angel. i walked over to the bar where my friend was.
"I saw your little detour there partner."he said with his glass held to his mouth.
"where did she go?" i asked him in a low embarassed tone.
"her old man came in and told her it was time to go. you wouldn't have got her anyway."
i sat down, ordered a drink and blew air from the deepest part of my lungs. when jay said. "let's get a burger."
"yeah" i said, "a hamburger sounds good right now."
|16 Dec 2003||kait||Hang yourself|
|16 Dec 2003||confused||I am 15 years old and i just recently found out i was depressed. I've been feeling this way for a while but kind of just thought it was normal i guess. I've had my ups and very low downs for the past couple of months. I've cut my wrists a couple of times. A week ago my friend saw my cuts and made me get help. I thought maybe it would help but all it has done is make it worse. I'm so confused and so lost. I hate seeing other people happy. I want to be happy but i'm just not. i don't even have a hard life, it's just how i feel and i can't help it. It's so frustrating. Now more than ever I'm considering suicide, but if i tried i wouldn't want to come back.|
|15 Dec 2003||sick sad world||I would like to tell you about our parents and about the role they have in their child's éducation. I mean, parents raise their children only to use them as goal a precise aim. They direct less or more our live and we are not free to make our décison, (except suicide) But on certain case it seems that parents have not completely grew upand are still acting like children.
You don't believe me, you want some proof well let me give you some. I know a girl in my class well let's call it Jenny.This got two parents is not mistreated, but in a fact she is used by her mother in some terrible way. In fact her mother is married but on the otherside got a lover. And so,the mother uses her daughter to drive her top the lover and so implicate her in events she diagree with.
I mean, Jenny cannot do anything, she is frightened about teeling the truth to her father, but on the otherway she wants to act against her mother.
I am telling you all this because she went at school nearly crying, thinkin about running away, or doing some other things.
And so, i have been thinking about that all the day and I am worried about her. So I just write, ask for help how could i make her feel better . That is just the question I am asking you
|15 Dec 2003||Justin||Judith: slitting your wrists will almost definitely not work unless you are prepared to make a deep incision starting at the top of the wrist, then slicing down vertically - again, must be VERY deep to reach any major veins. Really, if you're prepared to accept that much pain, I'd suggest slicing your jugular (the major vein in your neck), you'll be dead very quickly with that method. As to pills, well, how many depends on which kind, which combinations, and many other factors. If you're really ready to kill yourself surely you can take the time to do some Googling to find the answers to this. Just please don't be one of these people who buy a bottle of tylenol and swallow them all, while calling and msging everyone on the planet they can think that might care about them, to tell them that you're going to kill yourself, then wake up the next day and be like "SEE!! I really _did_ want to die! it just FAILED, its not my fault tho!!". nothing worse than that. much easier, less pathetic ways to cry for help, get attention, find friends, or whatever other motive you'd have for doing that. ciao.|
|15 Dec 2003||Lance||Invent a time machine and go back and kill your parents. As soon as they expire, theoretically, so should you. Et voila!|
|14 Dec 2003||MauvaisSouhait||Days are getting shorter and even with knowing that, things seem tougher. Like there isn't an existence withouth some sort of difficult anxiety. Like when it's beautiful outside and you decide to take a walk and then it starts to rain. Or when you begin your walk and you trip and fall on something. You begin to bleed and see your life coming out of you. Slowly every bit of your existence is leaving. But it isn't much. You can wrap it up and get home in time to where nothing really happens. Or like.. when i'm smoking and i take a drawl and see the red lit part eat away at the paper... it's like my life is the cig. And then the pain takes a piece of me and eats away at me... and then i blow out the smoke and release some pain... like when i cut and release my pain. It's all the same. But will i ever get to the end of the cig? Will i ever take that last puff and breath out the very last bit of smoke... i wonder|
|14 Dec 2003||Steve||Hey everyone. I haven't killed myself yet, but I fear I must do it soon. Too many troubles. Very few reasons to continue.
I'm surprised Mauvais isn't dead, as I recall her writing that she was going to do herself in the other day. Good for you, Mauvais. I hope you can find some true enjoyment in life and get past being suicidal. Even though I'll most likely end my life very soon, I wouldn't wish the same miserable fate upon anyone else.
I'd been seeing my doctor every once in a while over the past few months for depression. He put me on Zoloft and kept raising my dosage, until yesterday when he gave up on it and decided to refer me to a psychiatrist at the hospital for more specialized treatment because Zoloft didn't seem to help me at all. The psychiatrist put me on Effexor which is supposedly superior to SSRI drugs such as Zoloft. I have little faith in drugs though. Adjusting my mindset at this point would literally take a miracle, and I figure I'm doomed to commit suicide in the days to come.
What is the true objective of life anyways? Is there really any meaning to it? Are we anything but material beings only concerned with our possessions and physical beauty? I've come to believe that there is seemingly no objective or meaning in life, and we are only concerned with our own bottomless egos. People believe emotions such as love are sacred and apply true meaning to life, but is this the case at all? Sure, you may come to 'love' someone eventually, but when it comes down to it, is that 'love' based on anything more than PHYSICAL attraction? You may like their personality and intellect, but if they were extremely ugly or poor, you would no longer see them the same way. Let's face it, humanity seems pretty fucked. We can dance around the obvious as much as we like, but the only solid conclusion is that we only care about ourselves and life is one big, ugly mess. I can no longer deal with all the cuts and scratches of my everyday extistence. There's always been something amiss in my life that can never be found. I feel this must end soon.
Happy suicidal holidays everyone! I'll be returning and will hopefully be able to put in a post before I kill myself. Try and enjoy yourselves, I know I probably won't
everything's blue in this world
the deepest shade of mushroom blue
spilling out of my head
|14 Dec 2003||scarymonster||try thinking about what other people think of you!!!|