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.

Date Name/email

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?
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 I’ve 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 don’t matter. It’s come to the point that I don’t even value myself. I guess that’s true... After all, who would slice open their own flesh if they really value themselves.

In my mind, I’ve 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. It’s 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? I’d 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 don’t 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...

...the loudest


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.


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.


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. It’s done it’s job.

Walk away.

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 they’ve 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.


Addiction has it’s stereo-types. Drugs, alcohol, sex. The addictions that we don’t 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 I’m a bitch, spit in my face ... anything!”

She felt the trigger - now will she respond.

She’s 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 she’d 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 it’s empty. You can’t replace personal relationships with an act against yourself. Yes, your skin responds, and you feel. You’re 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.


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.

2:30 am

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.

2:49 am

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.

2:52 am

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.

Self Portrait

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.


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.

Cutting -

or burning -

or drug overdose.

It's all because of the

Condition of a heart

That's crying out loud.

A heart

Feeling pain deep inside.

A heart

Lost in a world of hate and abuse.

A heart

Longing for real love.

A heart



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.

"Everything’s 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 "everything’s going to be okay" seems to good to be real. It echos in your mind, seeming like a fantasy, stabbing at your aching heart.

You’re holding on to your pain.

You hold on tight because it’s what you’ve grown comfortable with. The pain you say you want to end is what you lean on. You’ve swallowed all the ridicule and hate, internalizing the pain. You’ve kept the emptiness locked up until it’s 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 I’m 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.

You’re 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 you’re all undone, someone who will stand by you and be there even in the ugliness. You have to trust again.

It’s 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 aren’t free to reach out to anyone else. Having such a grip on your own pain, your hands aren’t open to give and receive from another. Please let go. The fears you’ve felt are only lies. Try and trust just one person, even just a little bit. Take a tiny step for now.. Another tomorrow.

Don’t look back.


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.


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.


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.


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. It’s 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.

I’ve mentioned before that there is the brighter side of things, but it’s 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 don’t even care what you do or if you exist. It’s hopeless you keep telling yourself and more and more as the day progresses it gets worst.

Suicide is a cop out. IT’S 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. It’s repetitive, I know. A soul never dies-- better believe it? I don’t 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 don’t 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 me—my boyfriend/girlfriend left me or doesn’t like me and I am going to kill myself—my family hates me so I am going to kill myself—I lost my job so I am going to kill myself—or in Japan, I didn’t pass the exam and I am unworthy, so I’ll 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 can’t have kids, jobs by the truckload to find, and money getting printed everyday on paper. It’s because you didn’t take the initiative to do anything about it. In life also people die—the one’s who don’t commit suicide—and 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'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, 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.
17 Apr 2006 jayson i wish i could give encouraging words about life and how it will get better. it probably won't. the only difference is that you will take on life by yourself, which will present it's own challenges with it's own freedoms.

i have some harsh words for a few of you. if you kill yourself because of SCHOOL, you are an idiot. think for a second about this.... most of the people you knew in school you will never see again after you leave. trust me. besides, school accounts for such a small amout of your life. if you want people to like you, you have to quit caring about what they think. i'm 27 right now. my dad was killed when i was 9 (murder or accident, it depends on who you ask) and i got picked on big time in school. i have tourettes syndrome, and now no one knows it but you and the people i went to school with. not even the people in my life now, because i remember the mocking jokes. i even actively sought after the mafia to try and be a hitman with the hopes that i would be killed. i used to cut my wrists, but not deep enough to hit the veins. i'm telling you this so none of you think i'm some preachy dumb ass trying to tell you how it is. i'm not going to tell you not to do it, but i will tell you this. wait. if you try something when you are that young, you won't be able to see where your life is going. in one year by yourself, everything changes. EVERYTHING. what if the dark cloud dissapates??? sometimes it does. and yes, sometimes it comes back. but don't give up so early.

also the more disturbed you are, the more likely you are to accomplish something great. if you want some good examples.... einstein had manic depression. isaac newton also fought off depression his whole life. abraham lincoln was a very dark soul. he is credited with writing the suicide silliloquoy, though no one knows if it was really him. YOU ARE NOT ALONE. many people feel this wretched dark cloud. i know because i fight it off often. my arm is bleeding right now. not from trying to kill myself. my issues evolved into inflicting pain. i don't do it often, but more than i should.

i think the reason we feel so much pain stems from the fact that we understand the world better than most. even those of you that are 10 and 12. you see the world more clearly than the fools around you that just drift aimlessly, and it gets to you. you see that pain and the hoplessness around you and you just want it to go away. am i right??? i know i am because i've been there. i'm still there.

but here's the thing. if you kill yourself, it will never get better. you will just die miserable. wait another 10 years. it will speed by until the darkness comes back, and then life will seem to drag. but you have to hold on. when you are on your own, you will find something to live for.

the best thing to do if you feel this way is to leave home when you turn 18. join the military (helped me tremendously) or something. just get the hell away from everything you know. put a couple thousand miles inbetween you and everything you knew. it will clear your mind, even if it takes years. it helped me. it will help you.

i ran across this site by accident and i have poured my heart out to you.
07 Apr 2006   We all know The real reason for not committing suicide is because you always know how swell life gets again after the hell is over”
05 Apr 2006 BLOODY TRUE I know alot of people think this site should be shut down but i dont think it should be actually people who are depressed sometimes just need to write their feelings down and think about sad things and read others sad posts and after awhile of thinking about DEATH + SUICIDE for along time you can get so bored of thinking/writing/talking about it that you just want to change the subject and watch tv or something else and forget about it for awhile. Which is a good thing really this site wont help anyone to die but it might help people to live and get help
31 Mar 2006 Clara The best thing to do is to distract yourself for a while, until you can calm down and be entirely rational, most suicide attempts are on impulse. I know that telling you about who you're leaving behind wont work, because when my depression is in its prime, I just want to make it so that I dont have to feel pain anymore.

Try not to dwell on things, deal with them the best you can. Have you thought everything through? What if it doesnt work? What if it does? If it doesnt work, you are going to sit in therapy for a long time, do you want that? What if there is something about to make things easier? I always find there's too many questions I can't answer.

There is no best way to kill yourself, but you being here on this site, shows you're scared and unprepared. Everyone has something to live for, even if its just curiousity about what's next.
30 Mar 2006   Suicide creates a monstrous emotional upsurge of shame and guilt. Everyone participates in feeling responsible and even shamed at knowing the suicidal candidate. If these feelings are not healed the vampire of suicidal death can strike again and again.
When suicide is out of fashion we conclude that none but madmen destroy themselves; and all the efforts of courage appear chimerical to dastardly minds ... Nevertheless, how many instances are there, well attested, of men, in every other respect perfectly discreet, who, without remorse, rage, or despair, have quitted life for no other reason than because it was a burden to them, and have died with more composure than they lived?
Suicide may also be regarded as an experiment -- a question which man puts to Nature, trying to force her to answer. The question is this: What change will death produce in a man’s existence and in his insight into the nature of things? It is a clumsy experiment to make; for it involves the destruction of the very consciousness which puts the question and awaits the answer.
Suicide is the dumbest possible way of getting revenge. Why is that? Because the people you want to strike back at are the very same folks who won't even remember you a week after you're gone, while the people you want to spare most -- the people who love you -- are the ones who will have to live with the pain of your suicide for the rest of their lives.
You realize that suicide's a criminal offense -- In less enlightened times they'd have hung you for it.

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil.

17 Mar 2006   There is always death and taxes; however, death doesn't get worse every year.
03 Mar 2006 Persephone Hazard I have just read pages and pages of these posts. I've trawled through dozens of hidden links. I've squinted at at least five bizzare and grotesque images. It's crashed my computer three times already.

And I'm fascinated.

Whoever you are, Mouchette darling, this is a work of genius.
12 Feb 2006 SpookyPenguin based on the last couple of posts, I guess mouchette has been finaly found out and judged. She is being criticised both cunstructive and nonconstructive critisism is fling at here.

It took me awhile to relise that this website is a forum, and with a forum comes diferent opinions. mouchette is only an artist with a very outgoing and strange personality. Sure her real names no mouchette, what ever. Who knows maybe mouchette is a database built by a company(Very unlikely.) Thought this website has remained relitivaly bliss throughout the years, it has never lost interest from those who hate it. This website is as complexe as love itself, Who is mouchette? Where does she come from? and Why did she make this?

This is the only website with a black hole in it, it never stops and it has almost no reason, but it remains close to people in the ways of hate and love.
Mouchette, has confused the human brain for some time now. Mouchette, you are a guinness.

And for the record, Im goign to go have lunch with Jimmi Hendrix, And Kurt Cobain. :3~

SpookyPenguin Signing off.

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