|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?
|31 Jan 2003||Michael Mackellar||[insoc] _don't be afraid_ KURT HARLAND crawl across the floor if it feels like something you know. curl up in a ball if it feels like home. sleep as much as you can. if you can't sleep then lay there. pick at yourself until you feel pure. something's pulling you to the floor. like a long-time friend. someone's banging your head on the wall. as the means to an end. empty. filling up with... sick. like evil-horde slime in your lungs. sucking yellow fog around your skull. this must be the end of you. but you know this will never stop. you can't hear anything anymore. just the hammer in your soul. walk on through the growing noise of your inescapable past. walk willingly into the dark. nothing can touch you now. once you were a child. fear rang through the halls. but you won't think about that now. just some warmth and a home. and an end to the task. your doors are standing wide open. but it's too late for you now...|
|31 Jan 2003||Lucy Cortina||(in olden days before christ)
"Oh yes" screamed the girl, "stick it in!!!" The handsome prince was busy with his ravishment of cinderella. Or was it sleeping beauty? Anyway, she was a princess. The angels of darkness, the dark riders and Lord Saaron himself were in pursuit of the 2 lovers. They had found thongs and g-strings strewn about the landscape of Mordor in their pursuit of the pair. No, not Lucy's breasts, THE RUNAWAYS! They searched far and wide, and among the scattered tampons - and even an erotic toy - they found a ring. The ring. What a ring it was! It would lead them to the couple.
But alas! using her super strong bras, Lucy and the prince had made catapults and were flinging dildo missiles at the crew following them. Saaron and his crew were dead in seconds...
(2003, UK, A Psychiatric unit)
As the prince and the lady embraced at their survival against Saaron back in the olden days, in 2003 a girl named Lucy lay in her bed in an in-patient unit as the doctors cured her of her schizophrenia. Slowly her visions were no more, and the tales of Mordor and breasts were nothing more than a fleeting memory of the past. No more breasts, no more Willy's, no more sisters.
Just Lucy again.
|31 Jan 2003||Michael Mackellar||ECLIPSE2. i will take nails and hammer them into my body. Very, very gently... Very, very slowly... so it will last longer. i will draw up a precise plan. i will upholster myself everyday, say 2 inches for instance. Then. i will set fire to everything. It will burn for a long time. It will burn for 7 days. Only the nails will remain, all welded together and rusty. So i shall remain. So i shall survive. Everything. ~Tomaz Salaman|
|31 Jan 2003||Leonardius Mackellar||HOMARD?
Something wonderful has happened to me. i was caught up in 7th heaven. There sat all the gods in assembly. By special grace i was granted the privilege of making a wish. "Wilt thou," said Mercury, "have youth or beauty or power or a long life or the most beautiful maiden... or any of the other glories we have in the chest? Choose, but only one thing." For a moment i was at loss. Then i addressed myself to the gods as follows: "Most honorable contemporaries, i choose this one thing, that i may always have the laugh on my side." Not one of the gods said a word; on the contrary, they all began to laugh. From this i concluded that my wish was granted, and found that the gods knew how to express themselves with taste; for it would hardly have been suitable for them to have answered gravely: "Thy wish is granted." ~Soren
|29 Jan 2003||Michael Mackellar||...And so, i am not the one who is to become lord of this life, but simply a frail thread to be spun upon the calico of History. So, i am no god. Well, then, at least i can cut a thread. ~Yes. Time. i sense it comes down to discovering which Muzik becomes the most... beautiful within the throes of your own mind. And then, devoting as much time as life permits for the undying cultivation of Understanding the Truth in Beauty. Time has taught me very well that keeping my discoveries inside is undoubtedly prudent... As i often try and share these discoveries with outside others, only to be told that my musical tastes tend to be a touch inept. Yet, as i addictively strive to subject myself towards the company, and often interaction, of abusive others, i Fear i shall never rise above from the childishness of Sharing.|
|29 Jan 2003||Fionuellia Mackellar||OGANACH. My sorrow is my baronial castle, which lies like an eagle's nest high upon the mountain peak among the clouds. No one can take it by storm. From it i swoop down into actuality and snatch my prey, but i do not stay there. i bring my prize home, and this prize is a picture i weave into the tapestries at my castle. Then i live as one already dead. Everything i have experienced i immerse in a baptism of oblivion unto an eternity of recollection. Everything temporal or fortuitous is forgotten and blotted out. Then i sit like an old grey-haired man, pensive, and explain the pictures in a soft voice, almost whispering, and beside me sits a child, listening, although She remembers everything before i speak it. ~Soren|
|29 Jan 2003||Daniel Day-Mackellar||DORCHADAS. In addition to my other numerous acquaintances, i have one more intimate confidant... my depression. In the midst of my joy, in the midst of my work, She beckons to me, calls me aside, even though physically i remain on the spot. My depression is the most faithful mistress i have known... No wonder, then, that i return the Love. ~Soren|
|29 Jan 2003||Ndrew||Just slug it out, there are too many other games to play, just let this one slide, it isn't worth its hype, honest!|
|28 Jan 2003||queermo||Suicide Bombers
|28 Jan 2003||Darius Mackellar||FORUNDERING. Imagine somewhere a great and splendid hall where everything is done to produce nothing but joy and merriment... but the entrance to this room is a nasty, muddy, humble stairway and it is impossible to pass without getting disgustingly soiled, and admission is paid by prostituting oneself, and when day dawns the merriment is over and all ends with one's being kicked out again... but the whole night through is done to keep up and inflame the merriment and pleasure! What is reflection? Simply to reflect on these two questons: How did i get into this and how do i get out of it again, how does it End? What is Thoughtlessness? To muster everything in order to drown all this about entrance and exist in forgetfulness, to muster everything to re-explain and explain away entrance and exit, simply lost in the interval between the birth-cry and the repetition of this cry when the one who is born expires within the Death struggle.
Many folks are afraid of Eternity. If we can only endure Time, certainly we can cope with Eternity. Therefore when one hears the Lovers swear mutual Love for all Eternity, it does not mean nearly as much as when they pledge Love for Time, because one who pledges Love for Eternity can always answer: You shall have to excuse me this Time... ~Soren
|28 Jan 2003||Michael Mackellar||SYMPARANECROMENIAN FAVORITES. VOL. 319 When Philip threatened to lay siege to the city of Corinth, and all its inhabitants hastily bestirred themselves in defense, some polishing weapons, some gathering stones, some repairing the walls, some overdosing on cloxazolam... Diogenes seeing all this hurriedly folded his mantle about him and began to roll his tub zealously back and forth through the streets. When he was asked why he did such a thing he replied that he wished to be busy like all the rest, and rolled his tub lest he should be the only idler among so many industrious citizens. ~Soren|
|27 Jan 2003||Marshall Banana||Slit your wrists and drown yourself in your own blood.|
|27 Jan 2003||KC||TAKING 5 EXTACY PILLS AT ONCE FOLLOWED BY A BOTTLE OF VODCA...|
|25 Jan 2003||samWISE||I like your breasts, lucy. they look very professional!|
|25 Jan 2003||Stephanie||Eat one of those things that come in the box with your new shoes that say in big letter's on it "CAUTION DO NOT EAT!"|
|24 Jan 2003||Lucy Cortina||Life at my in-patient unit this week was a blast again!!
I was unleashed from the unit for a day beside the seaside. The first thing I heard when I arrived was one of those escapologist-guys (they dress in chains and then break free. Just another form of S & M). He exlaimed: "My pole isa stiff no more!!" His Popeye lookalikey mate said "It must be the smell of the fish!" Well, it was a seaside town :)
Anyway I walked along the promenade past fish & chip shops, amusement arcades and the odd dungeon. I almost thought I heard Billy's cries of frustration from one, but put it down to my new medication. Anyway, as I turned a corner, plop! on my head it was! A seagull had pooped on me. Fantabbytastic! Poopy Cortina. I had spent ages perfecting my hair into a bun too!
Anyway, outside a gift shop I spotted one of those buggies that old people use to speed around in. I decided it would be nice to try it out, see if it can go faster than me. Well, boy was it fast! It shot forwards like Billy's cock!! 15 mile an hour those things can go. They're lethal, I'm sure I could have mown down a few tourists while I was there (A lot of Aussies were there too. One even said: "G'day Lucy, yie 'ad 'yer titties on the barbie?"). Anyway I was off, speeding around town on my buggy. Until the police caught up with me. Revealing my cleavage couldn't save me this time - the police guy escorted me back to my in-patient unit.
Which is when I opened my bottle of "fart spray" and sprayed it on the doorhandle to the doctor's office. The doctor once said to me: "I like your pig, Lucy. It looks very professional" (I once made a pig out of clay in an Art Group at the unit). Now it's even more professional, and she will soon find out!
Ooh I'm evil!
|24 Jan 2003||Jeanie||There is a serial killer in my neighborhood. I've been walking two hours a night since I found out about him. You think this dumb ass would have found me by now... FRESH MEAT! For someone that has killed dozens of people... he sure is off his game.|
|22 Jan 2003||Dimitri Mackellar||SYMPARANECROMENIAN CATASTROPHES. VOL.-1 The sun is an acid eye/we're corroded with pleasure inside/there's a hole in your thin white skin/now we'll never be clean again/Our hands are two shattered claws/we scrape at the ground for hours/i buried this soul in the floor/to gain control of unfeeling/This city's a crowded room/this earth is a closing tomb/in my hand is your perfect womb/when you breathe your breath is obscene/My heart is a lead box/ideas are shutting locks/the air was just turned off/now we're sucking from this Machine/The sun did not rise today/your children will stay where you lay/the oil is black and it's thick/and sex is a void filled with plastic/The president's mouth is a whore/when there's murder the audience roars/there's no room left here for the strong/and everything Human's necessarily wrong. AMNESIA. ~m.gira|
|22 Jan 2003||Michael Mackellar||...Sometimes i am afraid of the terrible things that seem real, within this thickening Darkness of thought, and of the exquisite shapelessness to these things i feel. It is like a Madness at long-last, to realise that i've been fading into the pale assembly of an unreality: this baseness, this faith... this god-forsaken mind... Whilst my Self is all the while a piece of emptiness pulsating in horror, and the Horror and the Emptiness are all that remains real. This whole universe of deafening Darkness and dying passions... The subterranean universe of the things which have been denied Being... has conquered me for now, and i care not to escape. Yet still, i think with fear of having to speak... when no one dares to fathom the vacantness in such a Language.|
|21 Jan 2003||Felicia||I was just walking by the in-patient unit to drop by a basketful of purple, pink, and yellow daisies to Lucy. There she was on the phone talking to a tampon company, complaining that the Procter & Gamble establishment was cutting off her lifetime supply of "weaved cotton, stop-leak protection". Procter & Gamble, were filing for Chapter 7 Bankruptcy, and willing to charge their faithful customers, promising discounts on free samples, to make extra cash. The profit margin didn't look great in Wallstreet. Dow Jones decided that supply and demand was at an all time low for tampon companies. Recently, most of their customers got spayed at the nearest animal clinic to cut the costs of hospital bills. But not Lucy, she kept all her equipment and cherished her wondrous bosoms. The Christina Aquilera sound-alike on the phone for Procter & Gamble customer service, was a ditzy blonde look-alike with a Britney Spears mentality and the ass the size of Kylie Minogue's or was it J.Lo? Oh gosh! My memory is going dead! Anyways, Lucy, it was rumored that Procter & Gamble was indeed a behind the scenes gypsy "cult" and their only Oracle is an Ouija board. My dear friend, stay away from these people, because they will scam you for every penny that you have.|