|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?
|21 May 2003||Alfonso||Kill yourself, however you want but first of all kill your teachers|
|21 May 2003||my faint pulse||the best way to killl yourself is to drink freon (antifreeze). it tastes good and turns your liver to mush... very nice..
or (if you can get a hold of it) drink an ounce of potassiun cyanide with a glass of cold tap water. it will put you in a coma in less than a minute and within 3 days...you're gone. no pain, no problem.
|20 May 2003||naomi mikamura||...life is like my vagina... it's broken... oh and by the way... naomi will return after this message from our sponsor...|
|20 May 2003||naomi mikamura||...hahaha!!! im so fucking screwed... oh yeah and i wanted to say this to "just a girl"..."are u a bit fucked in the head? if u are... know this... IM MORE FUCKED THAN U!!!!! just so u know... anyway... ~hi everyone!!! im naomi!!! wanna... ~ hey! shutup fool!!! ~no!~ yes!!! ~no~ thats it... ~???~ HIYAMA!!!!!!!!!! ~...OOOWWW!!!! WHATCHA DO THAT FOR?! ~ cuz u wouldnt shut the %^#$^%# up!!! ~...~ now that my "inner soul" is dead... if i were gonna kill myself, i would just disobey my orders... im an orphan... i got drafted into the military and now im a bodyguard... the rule here (in hells bathroom...) is..."protect the host with your life! or we will kill u instead"...so if i wanted to die i would just say no (which would be my last word unfortunately...) ...*2 minutes later*...hey... whats naomi doing on the ground bathing in fresh blood...? .....i dont know... so there... now im gonna go and... ~hi everyone! im naomi!!!~ ...THATS IT!! IM GONNA TAKE THIS BLOWDRIER AND M-E-L-T M-Y H-E-A-D C-L-E-A-R O-F-F M-Y S-H-O-U-L-D-E-R-S!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ...AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAHH HHHHHHH HHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHH HHHHHH HHHHHH HHHHHHHHHH !!!!!!!!!!!!!!
P.S. i hate air...its so useless...
|20 May 2003||Rococco||If you really want to kill yourself painlessly, then simply get convicted of a capital offense. Kill a cop or a judge or something. You'll get the death penalty and they will put you down painlessly. Oh, make sure you ask for a public defender and plead not guilty and never show any remorse. They really like that kind of stuff. Otherwise they might give you life without parole and that just plain sucks.|
|20 May 2003||Ainvar||Dying is a bad thing to do when you are under 13
Morir es malo cuando tienes menos de 13
|20 May 2003||the gay punk||hey, oh my god i had the best weekend ever. sorry to make all of you jealous, but hey, what can i do?
i went to montreal. it was fun haah... didn't get to fuck anyone there but does anything of that matter? no. i wanna just go live there and stuff. the sun shines brighter. the people are friendly (except if you're english) and the bad part of the city isn't even that bad. and the motel we stayed in had cable!!!
oh what a good life! but too bad that weekend's gone and now i'm in the same school full of homophobes that i want to fucking blow up.
[p.s. facytoid: beating up a homo isn't considered a hate crime in canada]
|19 May 2003||annick||tu regardes l'enfant et tu lui dis je ne t'aime pas... il ira se suicider|
|19 May 2003||canfora||you guys all are messed up y do u want to fuckin kill yourself . U guys are a bunch of low lifes. how bout this one here r some steps
1) stop talkin bout it u just want ppl to feel sorry for u
2) just shot yourself its an easy way out plus its quick
3) get the dads shotgun and aim for the brain there thats it! 3 choices its your choice
|19 May 2003||carly||if you really wanted to kill yourself you wouldn't be on a computer talking about it, you would just jump off of a bridge or shoot yourself, it's not very hard to do it, there is nothing worth killing yourself over you faggots, especiall when you are a teenager, so grow up and get some counselling, or just do it, one or the other, cuz reading this bullshit is ridiculous|
|19 May 2003||just a girl||"another lonely day"
once again, waking to the inevitable and unbearable phenomenon of being me.. just a girl.. but this time it wasn't at 3am in the morning, and this time i didn't have danoz direct adds to save me from the reality which exists beyond the renowned safety and cosiness of my doona which lies before me.. covering my scarred fragile body..
I wake to the remains of the previous night.. a half empty bottle of vodka, some pills named (oh wait.. i can't read it, it's too damn early).. and a shiny piece of glass with exceptionally sharp edges, which appears to be the leftovers of a once-beautiful-photo-frame.. given to me by.... what is that red stuff on my sheets?
8 am.. and the alarm clock beside my bed is informing me that perhaps it is time to get out of bed.. and perhaps to even have a shower this morning.. and perhaps to try and make it out the front door without shedding a single tear or pulling my hair out.. which moments later i make a discovery.. and realise it is not possible.
8:40am.. in the car on the way to school.. being awake for a whole of 40 minutes and already i've had enough of this world.. oh please can't i go back to the insanity which lingers in my bedroom? fraid not 'missy'.. a voice to the right of me is preaching something.. yet again.. probably of how impossible it is to love me.. (what a shame, nothing's new?)
9:05 am.. class... oh skank oh skank.. could u be more conspicuous of your ways of skanyness.. (i don't think so) oh my would u look at that.. skank got kicked out of class- due to hmmm what would u call it.. 'profound self-obsessed-vanity' and flirting with the cocksucker next to you whose pants sit oh so way too low..
11:25.. class.. how can i be expected to write? i mean.. how do u wankers think it possible to hold a damn pen in a hand that acts like a jackhammer drilling its way to china.. let alone write with it? (maybe i should have taken my meds? nah more fun this way) speaking of.. do i have enough fingers (and toes) to count the amount of skanyness at this skool? simple question.. simple answer.. NO (perhaps if i look at her enough like i wish she would disappear.. she will drop dead and die? him too?)
1:15 pm.. lunch.. is then when i'm supposed to eat? oh no.. this is when i'm suppose to sit back and watch life as it happens around me.. skank to skank.. but not actually live it.. (note to self.. grow more fingers enabling me to count the amount of skanks at our skool... 1..2..3..100..900......)
3:30.. home.. something inside me tells me to be 'happy' about this aspect of my day.. but then that little patronising voice inside my head kicks in and says.. "but you don't feel anything.. remember?" (besides the constant beating of a hammer on my head.. due to hangover of prozac and vodka) i remember..
Home.. at last.. home and.. at last (not least) ALONE.. i always did love that movie :)
ps.. Lucy i gave a prayer for ur dearly beloved boobies last night, who hopefully now... are resting in peace.. can i join them?
|19 May 2003||joe miller||inventer des ailes qui ne fonctionnent pas et leurs faire accroire qu'ils fonctionnent car nous savons tres bien que la publicité y parvient parfaitement|
|17 May 2003||Moby||I've read entries here and I felt like crying. I guess I'm not alone in wanting to end myself. Being a poet, I wrote this poetm that even though will not alleviate your suffering, will help you know that many people share the same last battlestand with you and that you in death at least, are not alone..
Why do you rise on me each day?
When you know the road I'm on only leads to darkness.
Why do you embolden my hopes with your bright gossamer hues?
Mock my pessimism with your bosom's deep blue?
Only to have me reeling by sunset.
Why do you delay the inevitable?
Add trepid hours to a weary countenance?
Yearning to find comfort among those that found none.
Why do you sell me a failed elixir?
One concocted by self-righteous druids?
Only to decieve my eyes with false dawns...
Feel free to contact me to talk about anything you ever want too. Your friend in suicide...
|16 May 2003||martin||please im 16 and i think i want to end it|
|16 May 2003||just a girl||without a voice, without a thought, without a soul.. dont let me die here.. there must be something more.. bring me to life...
i dont know how much longer i can do this.. please give me something to live for.. please help me..
|16 May 2003||Julien||Pourquoi parler de suicide pour les moins de 13 ans? Rigolo l'idée d'un kit de suicide, mais je crois que le suicide est un problème chez les adolescents et que par votre kit de suicide vous montrez comment le suicide chez les jeunes peut être banalisé, chose à ne pas faire.|
|16 May 2003||Felicia the unexpected||Felicia's useless facts:
Rosey O'Donnell is not gay.
(She was a manic depressive to begin with.)
The laughing cow on the butter box did not laugh just for posing. She had her udders tickled.
The Cadbury Bunny didn't lay eggs, but gave birth to marshmallow bunny peeps.
Tom Arnold did not marry Rosanne for money, but who would believe that one.
On higher elevations, cookies don't bake the same as lower elevation cookies. They puff up and burn, then you toss them.
Drinking your own pee is not insanitary or is it? Well it does come out of your own body. (I was told this and it grossed me out, so I might as well share this with you anyway.)
To be vain is okay. To be overly vain is the same. To be too vain, is bad. Overly? What the heck, who cares?
All "Gothic" people love black only. Not true. I wear black all the time just to hide my "very gross" veins.
Bras in the beginning were first used as sling shot weapons. The cave woman that slingshot her prey for the lazy cave husband, was distracted by her shaking boobs, used the slingshot as backup to prevent herself from tripping.
When you want revenge on a one night stand philanderer, buy a pregnancy test kit. Mark the window indicator with a red pen, tell him that your pregnant. Wait nine months later, feign having a baby, and collect child support from that dumb ass twat. Ooooh! That's bad. For best results, if the incident happened around July, wait till the beginning of April and say out loud, "April Fools!"
This Mouchette site was set up by an org of Cirque Du Soleil mimes.
No offense to my friends. Have a nice evening.
-Not the end-
|15 May 2003||the gay punk||thanks for the advice, just a girl.
i got high on weed today (i haven't been high for eight weeks, can you imagine that?). it is the stupidest form of narcotics of all time. if you're ever gonna do drugs, do ex or dope or cocaine or crystal for the only reason that you'll die if you take too much.
anyways i was outside smoking a cigarette when derek just gave me the worst look ever. i never had the look from a straight guy. but his look was straight though. prick. if you weren't cute i'll put my shoe up your ass to know how much it hurts.
life sucks so much ass. i mean early in the morning i thought, whoo-hoo i'm out of this suicide bullshit. but hey i still have the urge to slit my throat once i get home. oh well. but once i get home, knife on hand, i remember, i haven't dropped acid yet. and i have to do that first.
the only thing is i don't know anyone who sells it.
|15 May 2003||katryne||le silence|
|15 May 2003||Lucy Cortina||It was like in that film. Four weddings and a funeral. Except it was four parties, and my boobie-funeral. The parties were all crap.
But yeh, I decided against a cremation of my boobies. If ghosts do exist, then I'm sure that boobie-ghosts also exist. So I need to retain my boobies - even if they are in a wooden box surrounded by mud and worms - so that my boobie-ghosts may return to their pert, proud, and enormous former selves.
As I was in the big room where they allow you personal time with your departed loved ones, I looked down at the beautiful boobies, and cried. They had been arranged so as to look beautiful and "at peace" by the undertaker. They were even surrounded by little daisy chain necklaces. Now ain't that sweet!
I once heard a rumour that dead people fart. The gas builds up, and then suddenly releases!
As my boobsie-woosie's had learned how to fart just before they so tragically died, they both gave off their last (and loud!) burst of gas. Then it was almost like I could see them, rising up... up to Heaven. Or maybe that was just the cloud of fart-gas, who knows.
My boobies were gone. For eternity. Never to be seen again.
Here's a lesson for you people suicide is so NOT worth it. My breasts were so selfish, and have left Lucy Cortina a broken girl. I may end up like Mariah Carey, thinking that people are plotting against me, and leaving crazy messages on Eminem's answer-machine.
That would be a shame, eh?
Anyway I buried my collection of shopping bags, leather bras and co. with the boobies, so at least they won't have to float around Heaven all naked and exposed, like the angels do, or Adam & Eve... or even Adam & Steve.
Now, won't ya all say a little prayer for me...?