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?
31 Oct 2003 MauvaisSouhait I finally did it... i just downed 3 bottles of advil and im home alone for the weekend. noone here to find me or to take me to the hospital. not that they'd care. Chris, i love u, thanks so much for being there, even w/out being here.
31 Oct 2003 A friend Lucy Cortina.

She thought she wanted to die.

But she wanted to kill.
31 Oct 2003 serenity_in_death I'm 17 and have a boyfriend who loves me a lot. But I sometimes wished he had never fallen so deeply in love with me, because i'm hindered from jumping out of my apartment 15 stories high, because the vision of his face just clouds my mind and makes me falter. It's so painful to be trapped, when your heart so wants to die. There seems to be nothing to be happy about in life, with my parents expecting me to ace my exams since i've been all my life, yet i'm spiralling downward now even though I study so hard. They don't seem to care. Friends at school are fake and competitive and don't give a damn about me. I hate myself. I feel I deserve so much punishment for being such a pathetic and hopeless person all my life. What's the point of living when there's nothing to be happy about?
30 Oct 2003 dollpuppet so.... you take a hot bath and you are listening to your favorite music and after that you're inviting the radio to your water, what is in plug!!!!
30 Oct 2003 Leanne Chris, I was deeply offended. Offended by the fact I rejected you and ran away. When in this life, you're the only one I'd run towards.
I had this good dream once, this wonderful dream. It's short and sweet. I was back in the playground of my primary school. And whilst I'm there I notice that it's not the first time my dreams have took place here. Anyway, I'm in this corner where me&my imaginary friends always loved to hang out. I'm sitting down, my head in my hands and I hear people coming towards me (a rare thing, i must say). I look up and see people from my Highschool, together as ususal, smiling, laughing joking. I get up, dust the grit off my school uniform dress and I say in my quiet voice "Hey, you want a sweet?" "Sure." They reply in a unison. I grab the little box of sweets, flick the lid and offer them as much as they want. "No, we changed our minds, we don't want your sweets, you can keep em'." I look down and in my small 8yr old hand, I'm grasping a box of tic tacs. Only there were no tic tacs in there, but panadol tablets (paracetomol). "What's wrong with my sweets? Bunch of spoiled shitheads!" I yell to their backs. "Oh well, more for me!"
Unfortunatly, this is where I wake up. Back to this place, to my cluttered and dark room, back to my sanctuary. Short and very sweet.

Chris, we knew that was'nt you, a few days ago. 1) You dont have an email address and 2)... It just wasn't you! It wasn't the Chris we all know and love.
a still-very-offended Leanne xx
30 Oct 2003 Kiss Rirchard Na innen irok neked egy kis dolgokat. ez egy kaosz weboldal
30 Oct 2003 Tasha I think the best way to kill yourself when your under 13 is to slit your wrist or hang yourself.
30 Oct 2003 noone important I believe the answer is to walk into the street. I was just looking for personal advice i want it quick and easy and painless.
29 Oct 2003 Chris Unfortunately I didn't go on a permanent vacation Leanne. Well, at least there's someone who to live for (you). As I am still here I am going to relate this strange dream of mine. I let all the dream interpreters make what they want out of it...

I finally had gone on that permanent vacation. A body and it is my own body, arms folded across the chest in a coffin coming through a trap door into the dark boiler room of a crematorium where two fires glow behind grated doors. A man is taking the lid off the coffin and slinging the body across his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. Then laying it on a moving platform like a baggage rack in an airport. The man is a hunch-back. As the body moves he picks up a heavy mallet. My body disappears into a huge tubular tunnel with lobster-backed rubber walls, and becomes jammed in the head of the tube. The hunch-back is crawling along the tube and bashing the body with the mallet to force it through the fire beyond. I seem to be standing in the boiler room yelling into the tube opening and the words echo back at me like a voice in a canyon: 'Don't burn me, bury me alive!'

And the hunch-back swinging the mallet trying to force my poor body and turning towards me, eyes wide and frothing mouth full of yellow teeth, and running headlong towards me brandishing the mallet but stumbling because he is running against the pull of the conveyor belt. And I must flee him. Running through the large boiler room past shovels and ashes to ashes, dust to dust and lime and coffins and flowers, orange flowers, ineffectual flowers, red flowers, cheap flowers, drooping flowers, black flowers, guilty flowers, ritual flowers strewn everywhere so that the dead may be forgotten and their bodies burned. The door is sealed but this is not the sealed door dream, no seal, only a handle and pulling it down desperately and the door opening.

Slamming the door and running but with graceful steps like a ballet dancer miming flight, leaping and pirouetting, gesturing to the fates across the paths and lawns 'I never promised you a rose garden as obscene as poppies in a war field fertilized by the brass plaques and the ashes of the dead and smoke rising from the windowed tower deceiving the victims like an Auschwitz bath-house.' And running through the roses, legs crashing painfully against the stakes towards the wall of memories, green and brown, Panel 69- Chris- In Loving Memory, and beyond the headstones and crosses and angels and the hunch-back is stumbling behind and falling into an open grave. In loving memory to the sweetest thoughts and treasured remembrance of my dear friend, Leanne and she is ahead of me now and I am pleading I want to make love to you, don't reject me but she is running away shouting 'mother-fucker you don't want me, you want your mother' and I am shouting 'goddamn my mother'.

Running across the unkempt graves and crashing into angels and a voice singing and I am dead as dead I may well be, come and find the place where I am lying and kneel and say an Ave there for me. In fond memory of mother sitting beside the headstone and it is mother sitting there crooning to a little boy whose head is buried in her warm bosom. Oh, Chris, I love you so but you don't love me. Please go away, you don't love me.

Running through the city in grief and despair to where there is a bronze statue of a horseman and the statue seems to move and I am fleeing with the shadow of the horseman behind and the rain pelts the window panes and the wind howls and the trees sway ominously and storm clouds sweep across the skyline and blacknight falls. The pounding hooves are behind me still and I am running up the street now past a man with the snow draping his shoulders. And the horse thunders closer but it is not a bronze horse. It is a grey horse and father is driving the horse standing up whip in one hand flaying the flanks of the foaming horse and a tomahawk raised in the other hand: 'Your mother is a bubble and you would never be sorry if I die.'

Rushing into the faded archway into a courtyard as dark as a prison cellar the horse thunders on the cobblestones. Fumbling with frantic fingers to show a policeman my passport or some other type of identifiction and asking him to help me I was ignored and the police kept escorting a man with covered eyes and gagged mouth. I arrived at a stairs. Bounding up the stairs shouting Mauvais Souhait's name to a flat on the right and it has twin holes (like it has been shot at) drilled in the door and a door jamb through which a thick wire is threaded and clamped with red seal and I am clawing at the seal and calling 'Mauvais, Mauvais'.

The door seems to loosen and rattle when I drag on the seal and suddenly it opens and a young woman with a bloodless face in black and white gown and slipppers saying that she's got work to do. From the doorway I can see a child maybe three years old (maybe Mauvais' sister) and the woman running to and fro like a magpie trying to keep up with all life and kids bring, throwing objects into the cot: butter, buscuits, a fountain pen, bread, socks, a doll which lies on its back and cries and a real live baby in another cot cries with it and the world is a baby's cry that has no end and nothing exists outside it. The woman comes to the door again and says: 'you must go now for we are enemies of all the people in the world now and if they find us they will kill us both!'. She slams the door and it reseals itself and I claw at the seal until my fingers bleed. The door rattles but the seal will not come off...

It was only a dream and I woke up in bed my fingers bleeding around dirty nails, scratching at the framework of the bed and the sheets and pillow were soaked in blood, sweat and tears and all of sudden it was just a normal, dull night which I was living, or rather existing, pitifully through and I knew that next day was going to be a normal boring love-less routine day, fucked up as usual...

P.S I hope that neither Mouvais Souhait and neither Leanne were offended. It's just a crazy dream to read and I still love you both more than ever. Very big thanks Leanne for the shoulder to cry on, for loving to sit near me on the bus, etc. xxxxxxx


See ya all in Hell!
29 Oct 2003 jamie sage put a cheese greater on the bottom of your bath, lay on it, put your big toe in the cold tap, turn it on so your body goes cold, then turn on the hot and boil.
29 Oct 2003 Annette ugh someone please just tell me something besides jump off a bridge or shoot myself.... cause i obviously won't do that. i already tried ODing so many pills so many times and slitting wrists definitley don't help.... so any suggestions, please they are greatly appreciated :)
29 Oct 2003 Annette im not under 13.... and im not new to this site. of course im starting those stupid thoughts again. i kept thinking that i got over this stupid suicidal bullshit.... but i guess not. if it keeps coming back to haunt me to make me keep trying..... im obviously not over. but i think its a sign probably telling me i should do something already to just end it. i know this sounds stupid but what really is a good and easy acess to kill myself. i already tried the ODing and cutting wrists methods plenty of times so that's not possible.... if anyone can give me some good ideeas besides jumping off a bridge or taking a gun cause i obviously won't do that, it'd be helpful. thank you
28 Oct 2003 Felicia This is a message for Caleb.

Yes, I truly understand why you feel like ending it all, especially under the treachery of cruel people... especially ones that you call family or friends.

As in regards to family, which is the most draining, you feel that you are the black sheep and portrayed as a failure. A misfit of some kind. You feel that your family is always... "Want... want... want... Me... Me... Meeeee!" or "You're good for nothing! You're a failure! I can No longer forgive you for what you did?" Because of this kind of upbringing or environment, you think everybody out there is cruel and selfish as well. Everywhere you go, it seems that people are against you, talking behind your back, calling you names, having bad wishes against you in which you can't progress in this world. I had a friend on this website named Lucy Cortina, who sufferred much so because of this.

I am not influencing you to take any personality subscription drugs here Caleb, and there are times I wish I can go on Zoloft, but I can't stand the side effects. (You know, the type of side effects that they use in commercials after advertising the drug: "Warnings may include sexual dysfunction, migranes... ect... ect..")

Maybe you can try this, because I am using it on myself right now. Has it ever occurred to you that you are more powerful than you think you are? The brain can do so many wonderous things. My suggestion to you Caleb is keep a journal of the things that bother you, write it down, and try to be your own advisor. If you visualize somebody else writing for you for help, offer back advise in how they can overcome it. Do it in your journal. I did. I'm doing it right now.

Caleb, my friend, you are not alone in this crummy world full of selfish bastards and skanks. They will receive their wonderful reward at the end. This place is wreaking of assholes everywhere. But remember that you and I can change it to our liking and not use suicide as the last resort. If someone tells us otherwise and say "Go ahead do it! Kill yourself! It will lead to more justice in this world!" Whether they like it or not, even if we are here or if we are gone, the world turns. And if these people remain toxic to us otherwise and don't change their ways, bad things beyond our control will happen to them. It's called payback kiddo. But don't rely on it as a form of revenge. Never wish harm on anyone as a rule because it will come back threefold. Just let things be. Forgive. Let people be people, because in the long run if you do the things you love, I am advising myself to, the more you will be a success, the happier you will be, and it will attract the people that you mostly like to hang around with.

Hang in there Caleb... You are not alone!!! In this crazy world think of this day of a rebirth of new beginnings.

For today is the first day of the rest of your life.
28 Oct 2003 whitney poston (sinner) im 16 but ill tell ya what i would do i would cut my head off with ax and get my friend to put a water house down my trough and cut the water on then take my body out to the woods hang my body upside down from a tree and let all the bloody water drip out
28 Oct 2003 elo regarder pikachu manger sensuellement un baton de reglisse (ça destroy n'importe quel jeune cerveau) ça tue plus vite que son ombre
28 Oct 2003 lucie se taillader avec une petite cuillère et verser du sel dessus ou alors laisser pourrir pour choper la gangrène et mourir lentement dans d'atroces souffrances accompagnées de convulsions spasmodiques (hors jours fériés)
27 Oct 2003 Caleb So why is it always the purest of people who are forced to suffer such tremendous, indescribable pain? Why is it that while the other wretches of society continue to walk the face of the earth, belittling whom they please and crushing whatever they desire while we are forced to receive all negative repercussions. Yet they are the ones permitted to continue living in bliss, living in the ecstasy derived from the pain of others. As I read the posts here, I can't help but feel an emotion I forgot so long ago, sympathy. Not in some cheap way were people say they "feel sorry" only so they can attempt to earn your trust only to stab you in the back a moment later.
I have felt the devastation of betrayal, abuse, and loneliness from everyone I have ever come in contact with, family absolutely being no exception. What purpose is there to living in such a world? Why live when there is no future except more pain.
I know my death would bring nothing emotional to my family except maybe relief. I have no friends so that limits the playing field. I simply wake up each day and go to class, come back, sleep, and repeat the process. I have become so mechanical lately that I don't even feel alive. Every passing day seems like a split second in my desolate world, a world comprised of emotionless actions followed by nothing more than a harsh reality of despair constantly staring back at me. Why couldn’t I have lived a happy life, void of such misery? Nooo, I had to have so many fuck ups that I am destined to be alone for the rest of my life even if I don’t want to. This used to be fine with me, but that was also a time when I had become a horrific shadow of the former kindness I once held in my frail heart.
I am sure that every one of you would make such excellent friends, as would I. We are all too familiar with pain and betrayal (one in the same.) I wish I could meet you, if nothing more than to talk, to be understood and not looked at as some monster. I almost shot myself when I was merely 11 years old, and then some times after that. I cut myself to relieve the unrelenting psychological pain, but now I can’t even do that, for there is far too much pain, physical and mental. Most of my past I don’t even remember, probably because I don’t want to. I still want to calmness of death, yet I keep blindly following this “maybe it will get better” philosophy which is nothing more than a lie, an extension of mankind’s will to survive. I probably will go through with it soon enough. I am going to stick it out…. just a little longer. Foolish optimism but… I don’t want to die knowing that if I had waited one more day something would have changed.
I don’t know what I can do, but if anyone would like to e-mail me, if nothing more than to talk, go right ahead and do so. People like us are driven into a life of darkness, which contradicts the purity of our actual being. We were not born for such misery; the other assholes who are enjoying life are the ones who should be feeling the pain. Not us.

I may have reached my dead end, but I want to at least help someone find a new course in life that will bring about happiness, if for nothing else than to hear them out. Maybe that way I can feel like I actually lived.
27 Oct 2003 Felicia Suicide is only too easy of a way out. It is a cruel world out there. Take for instance my new job. I feel unappreciated and realized that it is such a dead end job. Some higher ups use the state of the economy as a crutch to cut down your hours or lay you off. Later, you read between the lines. No eye contact is the first sign, especially when someone looks to the left and their feet seem to point away from you, not towards you. The same thing goes for broken relationships.

It seems that I work from job, after job, after job and go from relationship, after relationship, after relationship. It's sad to know that people out there haven't seen our talents or ambitions and never love or like us for who we are. Some inadvertently make our lives a living hell even if we care about them. But in all aspects, if we can’t make a job better, change it. If the relationship isn’t working, change it or change friends.

As a result, those of us feel that living day to day is close to dying. Literally, dying is the only option in getting rid of the pain.

Pain hurts.

I can go on forever talking about this subject on pain.

But we have to remember "LIFE IS PAIN!! GET USED TO IT!!"

We have to remember to go forward before drowning.
And keep pushing to move forward,
Life is one long street fight and we have to learn to deal with the bruises of its unsuccess.

We have to learn to be tough. I say that to all my friends, especially my gay male friends and lesbian female friends. I say this to myself too and very often.

Suicide is no resort. Never have this as your last resort.

And to Lee, if you feel that your friend is still alive buried in that box, six feet under, most likely he is not alive. Mortuaries do not bury live bodies and usually dead bodies are in the regamortis stage…meaning absolutely not alive. Working with a Mortician was an odd job, but at least the customers didn’t talk back to you. What’s so funny is I even talk to them and once in a while. During preparation, all I hear is a deep groan.meaning the air is finally out of the body.

For your pain, I feel it. Cry if you have to, scream if you must. But remember that this grieving stage in your life, which will take time, too shall pass.

As for every dead end job, it too shall be a former job. For every bad relationship, we too will remember that one day, these people will all be a part of our past. Time can be a cruel in the saddest stages of our life, yet it can be a good friend because most of the time it heals all wounds.
27 Oct 2003 lee this past may, my best friend in the whole world killed himself. he took an overdose of prescribed morphine (he was hording pills for this occassion). he had recently talked about suicide, but this was his first attempt (wildly successful, i might add).

i often wonder what he would think if he could see his boxed body in the cold ground. i wonder if he was really dead when they buried him, or was he just so unconscious that they thought he was dead - i wonder if he awoke a week later to find himself in a dark coffin, knowing that his only escape was a slow claustrophobic hell. i wonder if he had second thoughts about it all as he was so doped up he couldn't raise an eyebrow, and panicked for his life but was unable to rouse anyone else in the house to save him. i wonder if he could forsee the darkness and pain he left behind to all who loved him - i doubt it, because i could never have forseen how broken-hearted i'd be without him. i wonder if there was anything i could have done or said to save him, and i'll take that torment with me to my own grave. i wonder if i killed myslef, could i catch up with him and spend forever with him? i wonder where he is now, does he maintain any cosmic consciousness, or is it all a big black nothing, or has he been reborn as a puppy, or broken out of his egg as a baby wolf spider.

all i am left with are memories. little about suicide makes sense to me, except that people who kill themselves generally do NOT want to die, but accept death reluctantly as the only way out of - what they perceive to be - a hopeless situation. whatever. i miss him. i wish he knew that while his misery is gone, the people who loved him and cared about him are just beginning their misery - the guilt, the heartache, missing him terribly.

if he could see his broken-hearted mother as i have, bent over in sorrow, would he put his arm around her and try to take away her pain?
27 Oct 2003 MauvaisSouhait Silent tears fall from my eyes, rolling down my cheeks onto my lips. Pain and sadness has a salty taste. It's upsetting to believe people care about u when they don't. I wish someone cared, i wish someone wanted to be w/ me. I wish a lot of things but i have to realize that's a fantasy, i have to understand that in my reality i will not have anything that which i wish. In my reality I walk as though i'm dead, as though i have no life. Maybe i should make that true. Maybe i should finally end my meaningless life. Would anyone miss me? No one knows me, they know of me but no one knows the real me, so how could anyone miss me? No one is at a loss. Maybe i'll finally not wake in the morning. So many questions, what is my fate? I wish i knew, i wish i had someone to talk to. I wish i wasn't alone. But like i said... i never get my wish

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