|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?
|15 Sep 2003||Felicia||Lucy Cortina,
I am real. Real as you can ever be. Don't leave the world yet in such a dramatic fashion. I have been submitting manuscripts to publishers, which is more suicidal. All the coffee in the world does not make me a better writer. In fact, since my brain is empty, which is more often than usual, I can tell you that indeed I'm all flesh and bones here. If you are leaving for sure, be sure to email me. And Billy, if you know a few one liners, send more to make the world chuckle and laugh.
Lucy Cortina, please I don't know you, but all of us in Mouchette love you.
|15 Sep 2003||oz||Rip out your jugular artery, and pass out before you bleed to death|
|15 Sep 2003||just a girl||i miss lucy.....|
|15 Sep 2003||Steve||I've been visiting this site for a while and I'm wondering: how did any of you people find out about this site? I was linked here through a google search regarding how to accomplish suicide. The entire site seems kind of odd and it isn't really clear who/what this mouchette person is. Some of the posts here are also pretty weird and leave me scratching my head.|
|15 Sep 2003||will||ummmm, one thing ive learnt over the years, is that people that talk of suicide very rarely do it. and those like me, who dont tell a soul, (apart from people on internet, which is only words) normally end up doing it. sorry, but its a fact. i knew two people who killed themselves, and no one knew they would do it. well, i shall be a third soon, and i actually cant wait. drugs and alcohol maybe......|
|14 Sep 2003||whats his name||play with the next door pit bull dog and kick him like it was your stuffed animal|
|14 Sep 2003||Phil||Awwww Mouchette, now don't take the piss, I was being serious. I wouldn't kill myself because of the 'sea'.
There is a reason I found this website.
|14 Sep 2003||kat||how fucked up am i? im 15 yrs old, ive barely been through any shit, yet i have no faith in life. This website is a perfect example, it just shows that life is shit and the only thing that keeps us going is the hope that it'll get better, but it doesnt... it never does because nothing changes not ppl not things... They evolve but at the core never change. i only wish i knew someone as fucked up as me or had someone to convince me that im not fucked up at all, two opposite extremes but i need someone to satisfy the cynic in me and someone to satisfy the idealist. The truth is neither of these "someones" exist. I wish i was normal, i wish i didnt loathe myself so much, i wish i wasnt fucked up, i wish cuz thats all i have left, empty meaningless wishes that will never come true, but its a better alternative than killing myself. i dont think i'll ever commit suicide. i mean ive cut and ive come close but for some reason i know i'll never do it. What's ironic is the only reason i cut is out of self loathing and other that the satisfaction of physical pain the only thing i got from it was more self loathing. I want to escape life, i wanna run away from myself, only i dont know how. So for now i'll just make it through another day, numb, detached, pretending im happy, pretending im normal, ignoring the scars that adorn my left hand. Because that's what life is... a game of pretend.|
|14 Sep 2003||Elizabeth Wurtzel||Yesterday i watched Lucy wave bye-bye.Today i watch myself hammer sewing needles through my toenails...
Is this a great universe or what???
|14 Sep 2003||nosaM legnA|| Love~
"People talk about love as though it were something you could give, like an armful of flowers. And a lot of people give love like that... just dump it down on top of you, a useless strong-scented burden. I don't think it is anything you can give. Love is a force in you that enables you to give other things. It is the motivating power. It enables you to give strength and power and freedom and peace to another person. It is not a result; it is a cause. It is not a product; it produces. It is a power, like money, or steam or electricity. It is valueless unless you can give something else by means of it."
~Anne Morrow Lindbergh
'Locked Rooms and Open Doors'
|13 Sep 2003||RedAlice||SYMPARANECROMENIAN CATASTROPHES. VOL.68
i don't know about you, but my fundamental character flaws are so deeply embedded in my consciousness, it actually feels as if they're intertwined with the strands of my DNA. Lately i like to imagine that as a child i was a sort of brand new, meat-based computer that had an operating system installed with big, whopping design problems. The result is that when my scanning mechanisms bring in data from my environment, i invariably process that data in ways that do not reflect reality.
Example: i walk into a room that contains people. They are speaking amongst themselves and laughing. My immediate computational response is summed up by a voice in my head which says, "They're laughing at me. Why are they laughing at me? i hate them." Or: i see, hear or read about someone who has achieved great success in my field. My organic computer processes this info and spits out, "Danger! Danger! Survival is threatened!" Are these fundamental character flaws? You focking bet! Taken to an extreme this sort of thinking can cause a lot of suffering -- and not just to me. In my rare moments of mental and emotional clarity i've come to realize that this is an unavoidable part of who i am. The trick now is to overcome or at least soften my flaws before i'm sent back to the factory as damaged goods. Example: When i wrongly think i'm the center of the universe and my problems take precedence over the problems of others, i pause and say to myself, "Error. You are useless, ugly, spotty, unutterably stenchful and unworthy of being loved." At which point i say, "Why should i listen to you? A broken computer can't repair a broken computer." At which point i put myself into sleep mode before the whole system crashes.
Hang in there Phil.
Help is on the way...
|13 Sep 2003||nomeD cilegnA|| Dope. Springs. Eternal.
Phil was excited about his upcoming death. He rented a medium-priced banquet hall and invited all of his friends, family and co-workers to the happy event. But when the big day arrived, many were confused. There was Phil, walking and talking, actually having quite a good time. What kind of death was this? What Phil had failed to explain in the invitations was that the death he was celebrating was that of his carefully constructed ego. From this day on, Phil would cease to be Phil (except for tax purposes). For all other purposes he would simply be a continuously unfolding manifestation of the universe -- a process not a thing. He tried to explain how blissfully liberating this was, that this was the enlightenment sought by wise men throughout the ages, but no one really understood. Of course it didn't help matters much that he kept pestering several female guests to show the continuously unfolding manifestation their sweater puppies.
|13 Sep 2003||will||bye bye|
|13 Sep 2003||Phil||Well gosh, silly me, of course Mouchette.
Everyone knows Fernando Pessoa!
True to form, I am still here.
|13 Sep 2003||you are nuts!!!!!|
|12 Sep 2003||Mouchette Pessoa||Certainly Lucy you must have heard of Fernando Pessoa, right? If not, time to catch up.
|12 Sep 2003||black devil||Love is an illusion, that's what we learned today in philosophy, we are not loved for ourselves, but for our qualities, just because we are this or that, girls come around you, and they exchange their feelings, they talk all night.
But what could you say to someone who doesn't have any qualities, someone who is outside the circle, who has no one to talk to?
Sad vision, I think you must be crying, thinking of how sad you feel when you have no qualities to share with other people. Well that's my portrait. The portrait of a poor lonesome guy who ran away twice in order to find a better vision, a mirror where he could look at and say you are the one I have been looking for. That was just a dream, because all men have to follow their way, in hapiness or in sadness, have to face laughs or tears. My life has sunk deeper and deeper and now I cannot find hope
|12 Sep 2003||RedAlice||i've been told that we're only as sick as our secrets. i like the sound of that. It would make a particularly good bumper sticker here in Hades. With that in mind I'd like to engage in a little ineffectual therapy and reveal one of my deepest, darkest secrets. There've been times when the mere thought of this secret has nearly overwhelmed me with self-loathing. And yet, there've been other times when i actually took a perverse pride in it. So what is this personal bit of esoterica? i've got your attention now, don't i? You probably even skipped ahead to see if this is really juicy. Well, skip no further. My secret is this: i'm not that smart. Yup, there it is, dug up and thrown into the sunlight. Since i was a little kid i've known that (like it or not) there were an awful lot of people who had a lot more on the ball than i did. Oh, believe me, i've tried to suppress this awareness. i've tried to convince myself that i was special, that i was gifted. But i eventually learned that this secret could be my greatest asset. i learned that with enough bright friends even a dim bulb can light up a room. i like the sound of that. With enough bright friends even a dim bulb can light up a room. Someone ought to print that on a bumper sticker and slap it on Air Force One.|
|12 Sep 2003||Mouchette Mackellar||Once upon a time there was a wave. The name of the wave was, no surprise, Phil. Phil the wave. Phil was a big, powerful wave. His massive blue body surged across the surface of the ocean with great majesty and deceptive speed. Oh yes, Phil was quite a wave. From the moment he rose up from the ocean he felt special. He felt invincible. Ferocious storms battered him with wind and rain, great ships sliced through his very heart, and yet he rolled on. It was not for him to stop and consider the other waves. To stop was to die. Waves have to keep moving... or else. But then one day Phil saw a strange darkness on the horizon and, for the first time in his life, felt fear. What could it be? Was it connected to the laughing creature sliding across his face on a piece of wood? But before he could make sense of it all, he crashed down into the darkness. For a brief moment he felt a weird, splashing feeling, then oblivion. Phil was no more. He was now a part of the sea. And as we all know, the sea loves to make waves.|
|12 Sep 2003||ashley||if you're a guy perform your own circumcision with a butter knife|