|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?
|17 Sep 2003||max lewin||Pretend to slit your wrist with plastic knives every other say, until you accidently end your life.|
|17 Sep 2003||will||my car was in the garage yesterday, and i had the engine running. ummm, the fumes, yummy.....|
|16 Sep 2003||Chris||It's mid-September and its been a long, hot, hot summer, and everyone seems to be complaining about how totally unconfortable and suicidal they are, including me. I came across this study the other day that served, for a short while at least, to put our discomfort into perspective. Read on...
The study had this idea. If we could shrink the earth's population to a village of precisely 100 people, with all the existing human ratios remaining the same, it would look something like the following.
There would be 57 Asians, 21 Europeans, 14 from the Western Hemisphere, both North and South, 8 Africans, 52 would be female, 48 would be male, 70 would be non-white, 30 would be white, 70 would be non-Christian, 30 would be Christian, 89 would be heterosexual, 11 would be homosexual, 6 people would possess 59% of the entire world's wealth and all 6 would be from the United States, 80 would live in substandard housing, 70 would be unable to read, 50 would suffer from malnutrition, 1 would be near death, 1 would be near birth, 1 (yes, only 1) would have a college education and 1 would own a computer.
When one considers our world from such a compressed perspective, the need for acceptance, understanding and education becomes glaringly apparent. The following is also something to ponder: If you woke up this morning with more health than illness, you are more blessed than the million people who will not survive the week. If you have never experienced the danger of battle, the loneliness of imprisonment, the agony of torture, or the pang of starvation... you are ahead of 500 million people in the world. If you can attend a chhurch meeting without fear of harassment, arrest or torture, or death, you are more blessed than three billion people in the world. If you have food in the refrigerator, clothes on your back, a roof overhead and a place to sleep, you are richer than 75% of the world. If you have money in the bank, in your wallet, and spare change in a dish someplace, you are among the top 8% of the world's wealthy. If your parents are still alive, and still married, you are very rare, even in the United States and Canada. If you can read this message you have a double blessing in that someone is thinking of you (me) and furthermore, you are more blessed than over two billion people in the world that cannot read at all.
Someone once said: "Whatever goes around comes around. Work like you don't need the money. Love like you've never been hurt. Dance like somebody's watching. Sing like nobody's listening. Live like it's Heaven on Earth." And to that I add "Fuck like there's no tomorrow!". Something good to make you feel good. For one moment put a smile on your face and stop thinking about suicide (There are far more people in a worse situation than you). I'm trying!
See ya, hopefully with a smile on your face...
|16 Sep 2003||will||nomed, it seems you have one big problem. you seem to thrive on making suicidal people feel more suicidal. does that not make you feel tincy wincy suicidal. and nomed, perhaps you need some 'med' .....|
|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.