|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?
|29 Sep 2006||The Original Felicia The Great||Everybody is claiming they are Felicia The Great, but I am the originator of this name. But nobody cares! Since I started this trend, I am going to change it to "The Original Felicia The Great".
So you are wondering why I am writing in this post. It's for countless reasons. Number one, its for recognition, number two, I'm doing some 15 minute timed writings. And number three, to talk people and myself out of killing ourselves. Literally, everyday we are gradually dying for no unknown cause due to earthly elements beyond our control and stuffing our faces with unhealthy food or barfing it out, whatever turns you on.
But for now, I am going to stop babbling, and get to the heart of the matter in why you are visiting this site.
You are in my situation. You feel that things happened beyond your control. Your self esteem is down the toilet, you have good looks but you don't feel good inside or you have bad looks and feel ugly in the inside. You got rejected or getting ejected. Either way, you feel screwed.
Well, in a nutshell, if you kill yourself, you soon will go into purgatory. That is the place between heaven and hell. If you believe in neither, well, when you do go into purgatory, you will tell yourself in some other realm somewhere that "The Original Felicia The Great, TOLD YOU THERE'S A PURGATORY!" And by the time you are there, its too late. You will be haunting houses, people, and places, only to find out that your haunting tactics will bring in tourist attractions and you will find that you will not share the wealth with these business entrepreneurs making themselves rich off of you. You will be flipping them off and nobody notices. Then your motive is to make objects move around and making things fly accross the room as if some nincompoop in the afterlife didn't attempt to do this. Awwww! Come on!!!
Please send your post immediately on this sight so I can send you some feedback in how to handle this suicidal problem. Probably you and I can talk ourselves out of it.
Don't kill yourself yet, I have more to talk about. If you don't feel like dealing with me, just pretend you are doing a 15 minute timed writing.
|29 Sep 2006||natas||i killed myself when i was 13 and it wasn't fun. no-one will believe this, but i'm not around anymore.
you might find this difficult to believe, but we just got the Internet here in hell. ...you might have noticed the spike in bestiality porn sites, and general spread of evil online. ;)
i'm sure my punishment for speaking out will be harsh. don't expect to hear from me again in this life time. we are not allowed to speak about being dead here, especially with the living.
i killed myself on a whim one day because i thought my life was horrible. ...it's been hell ever since.
i don't care what they do to me for saying this, but don't kill yourself. it's not worth it. take my word for it, you can't imagine how much worse things are here then they are there.
if you need to escape from your situation, try running away and seeking sanctuary. churches, half-way houses, government homes, ets. these places seem like heaven compared to where i am.
some things aren't what they seem. others are. don't kill yourself or you'll have hell to pay!
|25 Sep 2006||Angi||yeah, wow. it's crazy how this site has turned into what it has. a simple question, and then all this complication, the stories of all these hurting people. i have no story to tell, no tragedies or testaments. i just sit here silently and read the posts. If anyone needs someone to talk to, other than the million other people who have offered help, e-mail me
oh yeah, and did mouchette actually make the kit, or is it still just an idea?
|09 Sep 2006||Nick||<script>document.write("<h2>a")</script>|
|25 Aug 2006||miss kelli||sorry if this isnt the answer you would like, but i work in the youth dept at my church and God has given me an extra special dose of something. i dono what it is...but I'm glad he gave it to me. Its a dose of connecting with kids and letting them know they are loved, by God yes, but by me too! Not just "oh im a sunday school teacher and I love you". its more than that. This may seem egotistical...but try me! You will love being loved by me. i will help you thru hard times and fun times, sad times and scary times...everything!!! I am currently loving on a group of kids who just burried one of their best friends after he hung himself one week ago today. i LOVE teenagers with a passion that I know God has given me. And not a love you if your good enuf for me to love...but love you cuz you are YOU!!! Look at it like this...guns are expensive - I am free :) Guns are cold - I have a warm heart :) Guns are heavy to hold - I will help you lift your burden :) Guns are black - i will show you Light :) Let me love you.|
|14 Aug 2006||Erica P.||I don't really know what to say to people who want to shut down this site. They are obviously people who have not experienced the certain kind of pain that others come across. Instead, they want to direct their anger at a website they don't know the exact effects of. For me to read the stories of so many people (and i know that at least a small fraction of them is truthful) is to look at something completely beautiful. I have no power. I can't express what it really is i need to say. I just hope that people could look a bit deeper. . .|
|30 Jul 2006||LK||Wrote this at a time of clarity, to capture that spirit. I just read it to myself when Im feeling low. Take your time over it I know its long and a bit dramatic but just kick back and take a moment. It might be just what you need.
Carried by angels, I refuse to be dead weight. From a place of strength, courage, and safety (my mother) I was forced into the world by a blade (caesarean) my first struggle. This world enforced its bitter truths on me and made me a slave to them. And so, with the knowledge my life has so far blessed me with, I will be a happy slave. I will sing and dance to the songs of the oppressors of the world and make them my own. I will not call for the chariots to swing low, but for my guardians to carry me above it all. I will not let any weaken me, control me, oppress me, belittle me, or confuse me.
I see more clearly now. I was blind suffocated by the pain of my thoughts. I wished for escape, so drowned myself in tears, I was deceased. Thoughts and visions of death plagued my thoughts. But whilst Ill still shed tears, I am now reborn Baptised by my tears, which are blessed, and should not be mis-used again. Now, I crawl above the reality which threatens me. Where there is no place for me I will create one. Hold my own. Never again will I let my kindness be taken for weakness. I can not stop others from under estimating me but I can stop underestimating myself. Instead I will stand tall in all I do. Proud and victorious, I refuse to lose. I refuse to be a victim of greed, jealousy, and envy. A slave to my own dark thoughts; no more.
And the snakes in the grass, those whos mere negativity can bring out that sorrow; I will actively fight against. I will be a soldier, and my guardians or whatever is bigger than me in spirit, that lifting force that comes with things such as love will be my army. My mistakes will be blessings and I will embrace the lessons they teach me shamelessly in the knowledge that I have followed my heart for I know that it is good. It has been witness to my struggles and for that it is strong. It has loved and trusted many, and been hurt as a result, but no more. The scars my body bear are my strength. They document my life. All this will replace the hurt that once existed. I will be knocked again, and I will stand again, faster, and taller than I stood before.
I will live the dream, not dream the life. I will treat my body as my temple. My feet, my hands, my legs, my eyes, all that is me, for it is all that I have which I cannot lose without losing myself. Literally and figuratively. I realize this now. I have realized my worth and I will reflect this worth in all I do. In the things I say, in the people I choose to spend my precious time with. I want to be a blessing to those whose lives are entwined with my own.
I ask that spirit to help advise me, shield me, give me the strength and courage to achieve all that my heart desires. I write this not knowing what the future brings. But I presume little. But all presumptions aside, I can confidently say this; I will not lose.
|20 Jul 2006||Spooky Penguin RIP 2004-2006||I swear to god this is the last post i'll ever make, i swear!
I hope your reading this. This will be the last time i will submit to you. I keep comming back to you for some lame, oddball, nerdy, waste of time reason. You've turned me in to a dreamer mouchette, i'll never forget that. I know that i'll never be a famous person or have my own spot on the site, but strilli feel like i'll he time i've wasted here, not having a life, has left enough of a mark. I hope some day i'll find you, I don't think i woudl say anything to you i would just wave. I hope you remember me from this stupid little internet world I've lived in. It's time for me to come out of the hole. i can't describe the connection i have with you, i 've never spoke to you nor known you yet it feels like i've know you for ever, call me nerd, fine, but 'm not the only one. I could go on for hours but it's like at night... and my eyes go tired. so all i must say is, I love you. Goodbye mouchette, I hope to meet you one day, somewhere over the rainbow.but for now i most go live in the real world again. Good Bye.
Oh, and for the record: I know your over thirteen because it's been over a year, mayebe to you have to be at least 14.
|07 Jul 2006||ugly girl||FIRST CUT
Here I stand with a carpet knife in my hand, pressing it into my own skin. What happened in me that Ive been lured to this? What took place in my mind and emotions to bring me to this place? If there was anyone who cared, I might be sitting with them talking about things instead of standing here alone in a dark and cold room. Too many words go in my ear that tell me I dont matter. Its come to the point that I dont even value myself. I guess thats true... After all, who would slice open their own flesh if they really value themselves.
In my mind, Ive become very fascinated with this breaking of my own skin and watching it bleed. The pain that hides within me, deep in my gut and tucked far away in my mind bleeds out. Its a secret pleasure that I lust after as it draws me to itself. Before the blood even dries, I want to cut myself again. What is it that makes me take pleasure in my own pain?
The blood dries and as I enter back into my reality, I feel guilt. What made me go over the edge that very first time that I cut? What was it that made me so desperate that I would cross the line of self-worth? Id heard one too many degrading remark. I felt the failure just too much to cope. Who would listen to a poor sad girl? Who would even care?
Taking the knife to myself oddly feels like caring for myself in some strange, deranged way. I inflict the injury, while the pain is numbed by my courage. Is it courage, or is it rock hard inner pain. The flesh parts and releases my own blood, and now I can comfort myself. Alone in the world and left to myself. Left to my own morbid little habit. No one sees - no one tells.
I want to stay here. It feels safe here with my pain. Facing those who say they love me brings me tension and trial. I hear voices outside the room. Part of me wants to join them as if this never happened; yet, part of me is drawn to embrace the pain. Embracing pain is much easier than facing the unpredictable life with others.
What could I have done to resist this urge? It was so strong, luring me to itself. It was calling me and begging me to come take a piece of myself. Or was it that I was giving a piece of myself away? To who or what, I dont know. It is done and now I live with the fear of a temptation that stalks me.
Sharp edges call to me.
Pain awaits me.
Voices haunt me.
My inner voice...
FACE IN HANDS
It's dark in the room and the screen shines bright. Nothing to tell. Nothing felt.
Face in my hands. Weariness on my shoulders. Another day fades.
My eyes tight closed still seeing the light. Hands on the keyboard ready to speak.
Pointless ramblings ready to flood from my mind. Holding them back for something more.
Other than shallow chat, what will be revealed through my text? Resolve and release.
Profound thought, You escape me. Tease me and tell me I'm a fool.
Anxious heart, You enslave me. Try me and tempt me to carelessly fail.
Empty mind, You abandon me. Leave me to myself, and show me that I'm frail.
Small talk and empty words, typed as the screen glares pink.
Feeling weary, shallow and alone. Anxious for one thought....
Seemingly left for another day.
I'm leaving empty now.
CUTTER IN ME
The cutter in me cries out, "come play".
Her voice is familiar. I hear it every day.
When I'm upset or lonely I hear the call,
but it's heard even with nothing sad at all.
Constantly the cutter in me calls out -
Wanting to engage me in a game.
Who makes the rules? and who sets the score?
Cutter in me lures my affection
as I watch the shards of glass lying on the floor.
TWISTED AND ALONE
Like a motel washcloth lying on the sink,
Taken for granted, used and left to itself.
You hold it under the running water,
Feel it saturate the water - fill itself up with life.
Then, thoughtlessly you take the rag
And twist the life right out of it.
Leave it now. Its done its job.
Like the motel washcloth, used and twisted up.
I get all wound up around myself.
Lying in a twisted up ball with the life
Sucked right out of me.
Once in a while I get filled with life and purpose.
Used by someone to fill their own ego,
And then left twisted and alone.
Shadows of the stain theyve supposedly erased
At my expense remain hidden in the folds.
Shades of gray hide themselves well -
still a constant reminder of the pain of life.
ADDICTED TO RESPONSE
Addiction has its stereo-types. Drugs, alcohol, sex. The addictions that we dont think about are the ones that are hidden.
A girl comes home late at night to find her parents still awake, sitting on the couch listening to old music. She speaks to them as she walks in the door. Thinking that the music is too loud, she speaks again. No response. She walks through the room, picking up a half empty bottle of beer on her way. No one notices nor cares.
No response is the trigger.
All she wanted was some sort of acknowledgment. Anything will do.
She thinks to herself, tell me I look fine, tell me Im a bitch, spit in my face ... anything!
She felt the trigger - now will she respond.
Shes tired from a long night of dancing and hanging out with friends. Too tired to take the challenge.
She lays back on her pillow in the dark. Thinking. Dreaming with her eyes wide open.
Tears begin to make streams of black down her face.
She reaches under her pillow. It used to be shed keep a letter from a friend under there.
The letter said nice words and made her feel good about herself.
Now the letter is gone.
She takes the knife and opens it - then opens her flesh.
The trigger was non-response, her response is self-injury.
Cutting provokes response. You pierce your skin and it responds by bleeding. It seems to console you, but its empty. You cant replace personal relationships with an act against yourself. Yes, your skin responds, and you feel. Youre addicted to it, coming back for more. You act out your need in private. Secluded from the world. Alone. You give up and numb yourself to others. Non-responsive to them, you drive your friends away.
It's the blood you cut for... so you say. A release of pain. You open up your own flesh, watching .. waiting to see red, you begin to calm down... Adrenaline pumps through your entire body as the blade makes it's way into your flesh. Nerves are at their peak. Emotions out of control. Is it the blood you cut for? or something much deeper? You've held your pain inside for too long - keeping it bottled up and under control. The silence becomes unbearable and you explode with rage. It's a quiet rage directed to yourself. You take all the hurt and anger on yourself. You inflict it onto your own body, when it should be directed elsewhere. So is it really the blood you crave? Or is it love?.. acceptance... The blood speaks volumes as you watch it flow. It speaks out from you body back into your soul. It reaches out to you in your solitude and pain. The blood is no replacement for human love. It's no replacement for the void in your own heart. You need to be embraced by someone who cares. You need to be loved. You need to receive the love that is being offered to you. Trust someone and begin to feel love again.
DATE WITH DARKNESS
2 am again
Darkness my constant companion.
Doesn't matter if it's 2 in the afternoon,
it's still dark in my heart.
Darkness isn't a time of day
or a place.
It's a way of being.
Here I am sitting with you
in front of the screen typing words
that make no difference
to anyone but me.
Thoughts and dreams
go on the page.
I'm drawn to you of late.
I used to fear you and wonder what
lurked within you.
Now you've become an obsession
because I empty out my heart freely.
Humanity sleeps as I type on -
always one word away from hope.
Darkness, my dear companion.
I lie awake in your presence waiting
for you to engulf me.
Is that so bad I ask?
Dwelling in the shadows,
Waking in the night,
Finding comfort in the solitude.
3 am again
Here I am, dear friend.
Spending time with you in the stillness.
It's dark in my heart but not so cold.
Coldness isn't a climate
or a place.
It's a season of the heart.
Worn and weary - weathered by the storm.
What life has brought you through has made you strong.
Eyes are vivid - they've seen many changes.
Changes have taught these eyes a determined focus.
Forehead maps out the concerns of the past.
Rutted reminders of yesterdays pain and tomorrow's trials.
Lips that aren't too worse for wear, staying silent.
Keeping guard, remembering not to unleash themselves.
Scar on chin from earlier days; stitches trace a small path.
An unexpected trip down a flight of cement stairs.
Hair frames the face with the mussed look of a day gone by.
The day filled with it's share of struggles.
If the eyes are the window of the soul -
What do these eyes say today?
Look deep and long. See into the soul of a person
Waiting in the shadows.
Eyes longing for release and anticipating relent.
Eyes of the soul tell no lies.
ITS NOT JUST ABOUT CUTTING
It's not just about cutting -
It's about wanting to be loved,
It's about wishing to not be alone,
It's about feeling needed
And feeling wanted by someone -
It's not just about cutting -
It's about scars that go deep,
It's about scars that last a lifetime.
It's about pain that never heals.
Not about cutting -
Not about addiction.
Not about crying,
Not about self-harm.
It's all about emotion
That has never been soothed.
It's all about wanting
Someone to care.
It's all about knowing
You mean something to someone.
It's all about realizing
You may be worth something.
or burning -
or drug overdose.
It's all because of the
Condition of a heart
That's crying out loud.
Feeling pain deep inside.
Lost in a world of hate and abuse.
Longing for real love.
I know you hurt. You feel alone in the world without one friend... not one person beside you. No one has spoken the words you need to hear that will stop you cold in your tracks. No one has said what it takes to make you feel and give you hope.
If you could write the script, what would they say? What are the words you long to hear? How would the scene change?
Show me what it is that I need to do...what are the words that I need to say.
"Everythings going to be okay". Those are the words that consoled you in your childhood years. You trusted them to be true then. But things got harder and people got crueler. The hurt got deeper and the pit got darker. Now "everythings going to be okay" seems to good to be real. It echos in your mind, seeming like a fantasy, stabbing at your aching heart.
Youre holding on to your pain.
You hold on tight because its what youve grown comfortable with. The pain you say you want to end is what you lean on. Youve swallowed all the ridicule and hate, internalizing the pain. Youve kept the emptiness locked up until its become a part of you.
Now I see you at the end of your rope. You look quite desperate for an answer. The tears have been shed, and your heart has bled. You stand shaking and weak, quite fragile from it all. PLEASE LET GO. I ask you as a friend who's been there myself. I see you and it feels like Im looking in the mirror at myself.
You have to trust someone. You have to believe me when I say you need to let go. You have such a tight grip on your pain that your knuckles are white. Please let go. Release it and find healing.
Youre afraid to let go. You feel secure having the pain tucked deep inside you, kept hidden and secure. Let it come spilling out. You need to trust someone to be there for you when youre all undone, someone who will stand by you and be there even in the ugliness. You have to trust again.
Its for no one but you. You have focused on your pain so much that you drove friends away. Your pain has consumed you. Holding on tight, your arms arent free to reach out to anyone else. Having such a grip on your own pain, your hands arent open to give and receive from another. Please let go. The fears youve felt are only lies. Try and trust just one person, even just a little bit. Take a tiny step for now.. Another tomorrow.
Dont look back.
BANDS AROUND HER WRISTS
Standing in the crowd of hundreds,
Music blasting, lights blinding.
A band takes the stage with fists in the air.
Bands around their wrists and tattooed arms.
Sweat runs free as the mosh pit grows.
Frenzied freaks kick up the dust ,
As grinding guitars call out.
The band chugs water between songs,
Spits into the crowd, and shouts.
A girl steps into the bathroom to
Get away from it all.
Hurting from another bad relationship.
Closes herself off from the world,
She takes the blade to her skin again.
The band plays on and the mosh pit swirls.
The hour is late but the crowd keeps up.
A girl steps out of the bathroom with
Fresh bands around her wrists.
Blends into the crowd and raises her fists
To the band,
With bands around their wrists.
CANT IGNORE THE VOICE
That voice inside your head. What do you think it is?! It's your Jimminy Cricket ... your conscience. Your soul. What you hear it say may be a seed from the enemy trying to tell you a lie. How do you tell a lie from the real true voice within you?? I want to say it's simple - how does the voice make you feel? Crappy? Good? Encouraged? Like committing suicide??
I know it's not that simple though. Darkness engulfs the best of us, with a cloud of doubt and delusion. We think the voice we hear is right... we know it comes from the light. But satan himself came as an "angel of light".. so how can we tell? We stand in the center of a pitch black room wanting to step out and take action on the word we hear in our head. It's telling us to move; we put one foot in front of the other. We test our footing, sure to fall.
We take another step, and the darkness grows a little less dark. Shades of gray appear. hmmm... the voice must be truth. We move on, and light begins to grow, encouraging us onward.
But what if it were not that way? What if we take those first two steps and nothing at all happens. Still pitch dark, still frightening and cold. Do we stop still and freeze? Do we retreat? Do we turn and run?
Life is full of advances and defeats. The key is that we never forfeit. To forfeit is to give in without a fight. No one gains anything by laying down and dying.
MYSELF LAID BARE
When the scales fall off my eyes
And reveal the crystal clarity of sight unseen.
Then it's the moment I fully realize
How unattached to the truth I've really been.
All along I thought I knew
What was real and what was true.
All the while I had a view
That I was whole - did I fool you?
Then the scales fell off my eyes
And I was forced to face myself laid bare.
That's the day I could've realized
There was hope - but instead I chose despair.
DYING TO FEEL
There's so many people around that have numbed themselves to the outside world. The pain is so deep, it's so pushed down... it's still there inside. They push it far down, and deny it's even there. If they convince themselves that they don't feel, then they won't hurt. If they don't feel, they don't experience happiness either. They throw out the joy with the sadness, all because they don't want to feel.
You watch as "friends" slight you and turn their backs. You walk away saying, "whatever", convincing yourself that it's no big deal. No feelings at all. You talk yourself into feeling nothing. You duck into the restroom and dig for a blade. You can't find a blade so you take out a lighter and burn your skin. You've just lied to yourself. You do want to feel. It really did hurt you that your friends turned their backs. Now you resort to a lighter to make you feel. An inanimate object that won't call you names. One that you control. You make it hurt as much ...or as little as you want.
You're dying to feel. Emotional pain is too hard, so you go for your wrists. Feel the pain in your loneliness. You've forgotten that your need to feel is a need to be loved. A blade or lighter can't affirm your value or give you love. You say your blade is your friend, but your blade can't talk back when you need encouragement. You need another human being to respond to you with love and kindness. You need to feel the gentleness of another person reaching out to help.
|06 Jul 2006||Matthew Mclean aka Billy the Freak||monday morning went off with out a hitch. routine pencil pushing and paper grinding. not a speck of work has left my desk. my desk found adjacent to the break area has me overhearing every bit of idle chit chat . i am hardly amused by the other flunky's exploits over the weekend. their conversation is as flavorless as the coffee they slurp into thier gullets. i don't care what the mamma from the cosmetology school got, or what position she got it in. fuck your trip to maryland... they move and shake out motions to acompany the stories. what the shit! now my chills are in full swing, and god does my back hurt.
"shut the hell up!" i scream across the divider. " i am trying to work here!"
mostly from weakness my body drops, naturally thinking my chair was below me, ( it must had pushed away when i stood up) i gave no effort to stop myself from falling to my ass and busting my head on the armrest of my chair. the pain, along with the dope sick was unbareable. now the jackasses are laughing hysterically, staggering to my feet i storm past the bastards.
" you work too hard." one coffee breath office jockey called out to me."you're obviously stressed out."
i have no clue why i turned around.
"go on vacation." he stammered between a chuckle; folgers crystals about to erupt from his nose.
"take a trip... tee hee... i'll see you in the fall"
the right ignorant cunt- i mean stupid ignorant. a 'fuck you' was all i could muster in a breath as i escaped the ill situation that had me the butt of a lame joke. i could bear the jones no longer.
i exited the cavernous office space into the hall where two bubbley cosmo girls (the marketing firm i slave for shares a floor with a beauty school.) engaged in conversation outside the rest rooms. sweat dripped from my brow, i know i looked to fuck. i couldn't care less, not like it's my lucky day. i haven't had an erection in weeks. no cosmo girl spread eagle could sooth my angst. i nod as i pass and enter the men's room.
i rummage through my pockets to find my old camel cigarette flask. once in hand i gave it a reassuring shake. bliss. in one steady movement i had the final stall door open and locked behind me. the flask ajar and resting on my knee as i sit on the john. my eyes scrutinize the contents of the treasure chest before me. at the top of the list: three wax paper packets of fine brown heroin, a lighter, a small tablespoon sized measuring spoon, cotton balls, and a fresh rig procured from my diabetic aunt. in the ritualistic motions that follow i am cooked up, tied off, and riding the mellow wave to pleasantville, all in under ten minutes. i normally don't panic like that. my mind was playing tricks. my body didn't need the dope. this is not going to be an o.d. situation. can barely breath. i'm so hot. not this. i jump up and dunk my head in the toilet in desperate attemps to cool down. i continue to splash my face, getting weaker... eyes blurring out of focus. i can't breath. everything fades to a light grey then progressively turns to black.
|04 Jul 2006||méphistophéles||Bien... Je lui offrirais un coupe-papier afghan, comme dans le roman de ce diabolique auteur québécois, Pierre Leroux, "Cher éditeur"(éditions Albin Michel).|
|29 Jun 2006||Felicia The Great||The Anecdote To Suicide For All Who Want To Kill Themselves
There is not a single moment that you have no option but to kill yourself. You live with a bunch of idiots who are family, friends, co-workers, or significant others. GET OUT OF THERE!! Find refuge. Its demoralizing enough when you see a whole bunch of television shows that exploit children and teenagers encouraging shallowness, greed, sex, and bathroom humor jokes. If it bugs you and makes you depressed, change the station.
Ive mentioned before that there is the brighter side of things, but its easier to say it than do it. I myself have shared the grief of a world too corrupt beyond belief. I live in it everyday and try to adapt whenever possible to a healthy life, even if it is impossible.
If you kill yourself, nothing will change. The world will still be spinning. There are others out there who dont even care what you do or if you exist. Its hopeless you keep telling yourself and more and more as the day progresses it gets worst.
Suicide is a cop out. ITS CHICKEN SHIT!!! You are stronger than you really are. If you kill yourself, the next life you will do it again, and the next life you will do it again. Its repetitive, I know. A soul never dies-- better believe it? I dont care if you are atheist, Buddhist, Christian or some other person who believes in religion or no religion. The Universe is unexplainable. Also depression is treatable. You dont need drugs. Just eat well, exercise, and get off you skinny or fat ass.
So why not better yourself right now and get rid of the hopelessness of woe is memy boyfriend/girlfriend left me or doesnt like me and I am going to kill myselfmy family hates me so I am going to kill myselfI lost my job so I am going to kill myselfor in Japan, I didnt pass the exam and I am unworthy, so Ill kill myself. Dammit! You are killing yourself over money, which is an object, how lame is that? There are a million people out there for the picking, couples who want children but cant have kids, jobs by the truckload to find, and money getting printed everyday on paper. Its because you didnt take the initiative to do anything about it. In life also people diethe ones who dont commit suicideand life has to move on. If we live in a world of people who live forever, then we are in for a horrible problem of over overpopulation. If you kill yourself, you are killing yourself and killing the times you are going to miss out. It is best to die naturally by nature than doing it by planning to kill yourself. Why? Because there is a purpose you are here. If you are reading this, you have a purpose here. I have no time in explaining it to you; you have to figure it out for yourself!
An example, I see an innocent mouse getting attacked in a cage by an aggressive mouse. I took the initiative to take the aggressive mouse out of the cage and you know what happened? The innocent mouse was again, able to run free and relax. So as a favor to yourself, take that aggressive mouse out of your life and live in harmony. Life is too short for negativity. What are the things you always wanted to do, besides killing yourself?
Suicide does not exist anymore to you. It is only a word. Life begins today.
|11 Jun 2006||emma||i killed myself when i was thirteen. i swallowed an umbrella and it opened inside me. oops|
|30 May 2006||Paisa||People with questions and seeking advise on how to kill themselves are truly searching in the wrong places. You need professional help and people who are specialized in suicidal cases to help you be more happier with your life and helps stop your pain. Suicide is not the answer people. Can you imagine dying and never waking up again? You are going through tough times right now, but that doesnt mean you will always be through rought times. Life is a rollercoaster, its the way you handle things that is worth your while. Please dont seek help through here. PPL here are not professionals, the only thing in common everyone have in here is wanting to commit suicide. Now think, that is not the ppl who will be able to help you because they are in the same boat as you.|
|24 May 2006||some hippy||you're in pain here on earth. you feel empty, you feel nothing. you see death as release, where you won't feel this emptiness. Maybe you think death will bring you emptiness, that u can stop existing all together. you're more than your body. we're all covered by layers and layers of fear, of guilt, of anger, of grief, of insecurity. beneath it all we are all the same. beneath it all we are all so much more than ok. the world can feel dark, oppressive. we're sensitive, we feel it, we want to change it but we don't know how. drugs give us a synthetic experience of freedom. cutting gives us a taste of being real. death will take away this world but it won't change the pain. you'll have to face it still, you don't stop, you never stop. we never can stop until each and everyone of us has stopped hurting, has ceased to fear, exists only in joy and love. sounds impossible. to just change myself seems impossible. but i believe it. i believe it. i'm going to choose it and i'm choosing it for all of you as well. we will change, we are changing, and we have choice. go into it, go through it. see the voices, the shadows, there inside almost all of us. scream, kick, throw yourself around until you are curled up in a little ball shuddering on the ground. stay there, feel your breath calm, feel your body sink into the ground, feel your emotions dissipate. everything you think you are fades. at first you feel nothing. if the voices start to come back, you observe them. but you don't become them. everything that's happened, or hasn't happened, all the reasons you give to your pain, you watch them. but you are not them anymore. you don't have to be them anymore. you close your eyes, you feel an energy running up from your feet, through your body, into your head. you're filled with warmth, with light, with love. it's not any God, unless you want it to be...it's just what we are, in essence. all of us. you uncurl, move your body how you wish, slowly stretch and stand up. you open your eyes. your feet are grounded, your body is relaxed, your mind is clear. you are you but not the old you. you walk into the next moment, then the next. just one after the other, you don't have to plan or fear because nothing exists except right now. nothing else can. when the voices come back, when the pain flows in, when you remember, when you regret, when you plan, manipulate, fear...you see it, you accept it, but you don't become it. you do what you have to do. you draw, you write, you scream, you dance, you cry. but you always come through it. you always come out. and you remember WE ARE ALL DOING THE SAME THING. EACH AND EVERY ONE OF US. Slowly we will mend. Immediately we can become our true selves, with one choice, your decision. and slowly after that we can mend the tears, heal the scars. because we will be strong. we will be powerful. we will not fear. we will love ourselves and we will love one each other unconditionally. I'm going to make that choice. I have to- love and blessings.|
|18 May 2006||Tim||I'm sorry Mouchette for making you upset. I am very happy though that this site has been erected to allow young people to vent there frustration. A lot of times people simply want others to hear their opinions and views. A couple of people have emailed me from the site and it has touched me in a way that time nor failure could evoke. I posted a rather harsh comment stating all the problems that I've occured in my life, in which I among others seem to be tragic.....nevertheless there are others that have endured worse, yet continue to struggle with this battle we call life. What is life? Hummm......Life is to help. Life is to love. Life is to cry. Life is to Live and hurt and then we die. The latter is a bit harsh but many people feel this way. To take your life to escape a world so miserable. Personally even though my life is not at all easy. I thank God everyday for giving me the opportunity to see another day and to enlighten others. I am the Humanitarian!! I love to help others and one day I will be able to contribute to helping society and the many dooms of society. This is the only thing that keeps me strong.....of course my religion (God that strengthens me). I am so desolate and poor struggling student but God makes me rich because I know that when I die naturally and fight the good fight I will be rewarded for my endurance, courage and valeur.
I love you Mouchette.
May God Bless you for your
hard work and dedication to this site.
May it be bless 1000* over.
May God bless everyone that reads the any syllable of text from your site
and may they click to a brighter future in God/Love/Peace/Happiness/Self-Contentment/Joy/Nature/
|07 May 2006||Im having problems trying to understand the concept of forgiveness. If someone does something really bad to you and they did it maliciously, with evil intent, just to hurt you and they really tried their hardest to make your life a living hell and i mean really went out of their way to ruin you, why should you forgive them? I dont get it. I can forgive someone for making a mistake, thats straight foreward, but if you forgive someone for doing you some real wrong, isnt that like saying to yourself, yup, go on and do it all over again. I think its hard to forgive in that case, and that means you cant forget about it, which is good, in case any more arseholes think they can just walk into your life and destroy it for their amusement. Anyone with an understanding of foregiveness?|
|22 Apr 2006||It's nice to feel sometimes||OK, I think I finally understand what this site is about. When I first encountered it, it made me feel sick and depressed, but know, in a strange way, it's made me feel better.
I'm not suicidal, though I have thought about it, like I'm sure most people have. In fact I wouldn't say that I'm depressed, either. I just FEEL too much. Everything gets to me. At the moment I'm feeling a bit down and isolated because I've been dwelling on the death of a poet who's suicide message I particularly like. The poet's suicide has led me to this sight. Previously, I've been made to feel rotten by something as silly as a book, becuase I become too attached to the characters.
Apart from feeling too much, I also think too much. Who ever said that ignorance is bliss, was right. Unfortunately you can't think and be ignorant at the same time. So, when I'm alone I start to think, and my thoughts aren't exactly all that happy.
But even despite that, I'm generally pretty optimistic, some may call it arrogance. In reality it's probably more like dreams. I'm a big dreamer; that helps.
And like dreams help me, I think that this sight might help others. It's disturbing, yes, but it seems to show a concern for other human beings, which is needed more than ever now. Ofcourse I could be entirely wrong about the intentions of the author of this site, but that's what I choose to belive.
This site doesn't evade issues, and I congratulate it for that.
|21 Apr 2006||philimene||To The Bitter End - I wouldn't be offended if u added me and asked why I haven't killed myself yet. It would probably make for interesting conversation.
To Twaits: I think u have really summed up the essence of this website. I have wanted to commit suicide for at least 4 years, but have never talked to anyone apart from on this site.
|19 Apr 2006||lilbrowndog||I am not under 13. I am 25 and have no clear reason to kill myself. I have a good job, I don't take a lot of drugs just the occasional joint or ecstasy tablet. All I know is I feel like shit every day. I'm tired of being sad and feeling worthless. I'm tired of not having a connection to anyone. I'm sick of crying my eyes out for no reason. I don't understand the sadness it's always been there. When I was younger I felt this way but I had things to distract me. I will probably never kill myself and I hope that noone that posts on this site does. I know life can seem like its mostly shithouse but there are times when it gets better. And those times are what you need to live for. But what am I saying, I used to cut myself, I've been there and nothing really stops the pain - -wherever it is coming from. I suppose the only advice I can offer is to try and rise above it. Fuck society and everyone else - why the hell would you let them win? I've always believed that we were put on this earth for a reason. Some people just find that reason easier than others. I never have. Even as I write this I feel like killing myself but I still don't recommend doing it. But if you have to, if it really is that bad then at least consider the people that may care about you. If you're too selfish to do that then go ahead. I don't know where I'll end up with my life but I will just keep struggling on with it all. Good luck with whatever it is you all choose to do, all my love to you.|