|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?
|02 Nov 2003||Felicia was framed||To Just A Girl, The Folks, Lucy
My Personal Vendetta
Today I made my involuntary resignation at a cow ranch, totally against my will. Next week, this coming Friday, will be my last day.
Yes. From the sting of it, I had run into a dead end unfortunate situation. I was indeed the target of four toxic villains, so I thought. Okay, make it three, counting off Cowboy Bob, who I thought was a culprit at first. The rest of the three varmints, Stud Boy, Silent Bubba, and that fat bitch Prima Donna, made sure to it that they kept track of every single mistake I supposedly made.
And Stud Boy lied.
I kept account of all my task quotas, and they said I didnt brand enough cows. For the effort of saying that I was trying despite the brutal hoof kicks and burning cow hair, they wanted me out. It was obvious that they didnt want me. First tears came in my eyes, then resentment. Well? Wouldnt you feel the same if you had two mouths to feed, and a Ma who is about to fall off her rocker?
Afterwards at the end of the day I was plotting a form of revenge. To go postal by ordering a sawed off shot gun at the convenience store would be illegal. But to take revenge indirectly by advertising their competition would be the sweetest revenge. Word of mouth by rumor will kill the business. They happened to do it to me by dirtying my name for future employment, so its back to them publicly?
Yes, like a tabloid? Yes (Brief moment of silence.) Well? Shouldnt I?
Sigh . Only in a perfect world.
- Yes, this is based on a true story.
|02 Nov 2003||ID 10 T Form||Buy an embalming video from http://bluelips.com/?source=sui , study the video and then embalm yourself. Nothing quite like self preservation.|
|01 Nov 2003||peach||when your 13 or 15 as i am your parents are part of your problem right? you dont really want to try and hang yourself or jump off of a bridge incase you survive and then you will have to face your family or the people who love you. however much you love them its not enough right? you want something more but you cant find it, everything is too hard at school and quite franckly you cant be fucked anymore. whats the point anyway?? im here becos of about 2 ppl but im sure i they leave my life then i will leave life. the best way in my oppinion is pills ibuprofen bein the strongest u can buy your safe with 70 i should say. that seems extreme but small amounts like 20 are only going to damage your liver and then you have parents to answer to about why you did it and then councelling bollox. i'v tried before but held back there are only a few things holding me back but right now they're strong enough i hope i can hold on to them.
|01 Nov 2003||mo||carbon mononxide|
|01 Nov 2003||Mustafa||ok, straight answer, if you really willing to commit suicide, you must be very determined so you will go to heights to achieve you goal, so the abosolute best way of commiting suicide is carbon monoxide, loads of it, just inhale and you're gone within 20 seconds, totally painless, you can get it from industiral stores, although you will need a licence to get some, but since you are very determined you will find a way round.
However, what happens after you die ? what if it's worse than now? what if there really is a god and hell, and all religious stuff (puts off most people)?
The other way to think of it is let this be a challenge and go through it, and by time you have completed this challenge, you will defiinitely have acquired groundbreaking problem solving skils which will help you out through life , and you will feel happy.
so your friends are fake and competitive, use them like they use you, and go beyond them , again think of this as a challeng, they don't know this is a challenge, so they won't be prepared but you will and hence you will beat them.
so your boyfriend's pretty , look beyond that, will take time, but once you have seen it, you will know what i am talking about , and trust me it will feel great.
Gangsters quote " when you become really scared of death , you will really start to appreciate life " , try ultra strong cannabis , will help you understand this quote.
But in the end Carbon Monoxide is the real deal , the best thing , when you are 13 and under
|01 Nov 2003||Nikki||To me the best way to kill yourself is to take pills and take a lot because if you dont your not going anywhere. I have been trying and thinking about suicide since i was 12 and i'm 15 now. i felt like i was alone in the world and nobody cared if i lived or died. i was in love with a 19 yr. old named Antwan (i was 12 at the time) and one day he asked could he come over and wait for my brother to come home and i said he could. He parked his car down to road at an old house. he came in and sat beside me and started to touch me. i mean i liked him, but, i was still ony 12 and he took my virginity, that night and i have never seen him since and felt broken inside like a play toy.|
|01 Nov 2003||marisa||slit ur wrist|
|01 Nov 2003||somebody heartbroken forever||hey this is not to anybody inparticular. im 13. ive slit my wrist 5 times since july 2003-august 2003. ive tryied to od but it doesnt seem to work. ive even jumped out in front of a car but the car swerved. FUCKERS, but i havent thought about suicide since august. it just recently came back this month and my life is a tormenting hell everyday is the same. i hate life. i wanna die. but i want it to be in a very easy painless way. other then the 2 ive tryied please anybody with suggestions email them to me at email@example.com. i would greatly appreciate it.
***the very miserable katie***
im not shooting myself or jumping off a bridge
|01 Nov 2003||just a girl||mmmm
i do wonder why i still visit this site.. although most of you would think i either died or just vanished.. i am still here.. (getting on with my life as a matter of fact) yet i do come by from time to time, just to check up on everyone..
this used to be my home.. this used to be my escape from reality.. this used to be all i had.. but things have changed.. although i can still read and understand just about every entry that comes before my eyes, they are no longer my thoughts..
but i know, one day again, they will be. for as i quote Felicia, or rather, blondey from The Long Kiss Goodnight.. "life is pain..." but i guess i got used to it...
i hope when i do find myself thinking of jumpin off the pretty steel bridge near my skool one day (i hope i never do again tho), i can come here again.. and be welcome again.. to be me, just a girl.....
life does go on guys...
|01 Nov 2003||MauvaisSouhait||oh mouchette, thankyou for being here and giving me a place to put my messages it was sweet, but now might be my end, i cant really feel too much right now, im only going to miss Chris, he was sweet tho i never knew him, and he never e-mailed me.. he was nice... i cared... i think im gonna be sick, i have to go now.
|01 Nov 2003||Steve||Wow, goodbye Mauvais, my thoughts are with you.|
|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
VERY IMPORTANT NOTE: THE MAN WHO WROTE USING MY NAME AND TOLD YOU SOME SHIT TO JUMP OUT OF THE WINDOW IS NOT ME. I DON'T WRITE THAT SORT OF CRAP! AND SENDING E-MAILS TO THAT GUY WILL NOT ARRIVE TO THE ORIGINAL CHRIS! PROBABLY YOU GUESSED BUT I JUST WANTED TO MAKE SURE! SHOULD I TELL THIS GUY AND HIS CRAP IDEAS TO FUCK OFF? I WILL NOT AS I TRY TO RESPECT EVERYONE AND EVRYONE'S IDEAS BUT I DO KINDLY ASK HIM TO USE A DIFFERENT NAME IN THE FUTURE AND I THANK HIM FOR HIS COOPERATION! I GUESS CHRIS IS JUST SO MUCH A COMMON NAME (ALL THE BETTER FOR ME TO BE LOST AND FORGOTTEN FOREVER, NOT THAT A STRANGE NAME WOULD HAVE ME REMEMBERED BY ANYONE) Sigh!
See ya all in Hell!