|Reading these suicide pages you will find people seeking help and people offering their help. Some witness about suicide from real life experience, others who play along with me would pretend it's a children's game. Some make sick and cruel jokes about it, and angry people blame me for even mentioning the subject. You might also want to read my favourite answers. If you want your answer to be included here, fill in the form.|
What is the best way to kill yourself when you're under 13?
Quelle est la meilleure forme de suicide pour les moins de 13 ans?
|21 Dec 2005||Felicia The Great||It seems I have major fans. Nobody knows what it is like to live on the rim of extinction. Billy the Freak is back, Lucy Cortina is in full swing with her knockers, Just a Girl is in hiatus, and as for me, I am just yammering away and reading these posts from the unfortunate and the too fortunate.
I will explain to you what a suicide kit is. A suicide kit has ten digits and a brain. At the present moment, as you are reading this post, your brain is functioning at will. In 25 or 40 years you will develop memory loss. You will die eventually some day, it could be tonight, it could be tomorrow. So stop making attempts in killing yourself and let nature take its course. Don't fast forward your life ending it with suicide because its too much work.
Would you find it too much work to do something thrilling like sky diving? Or surfing? Or working on occupations that are life threatening? If you plan on taking your life, why not enjoy it by helping others? You can save another person's life by risking your life. I see people everyday on a death wish. Their thoughts are to help the unfortunate.
As for me, being a dog groomer has its death wish too. You can be mauled to death by bathing a Pit Bull, Mastiff, or Rottweiler. Or get an infection from a fear biting Shih Tzu and die from it.
Death is all around you. Make the best of it. It only gets worst when you wallow in the "Woe is me" mentality mode. Has it occurred to you that there are mysteries out there you really should know about?
I salute to Billy, Lucy, Just a Girl, and the people that helped warm up this website, despite the cold, cold world.
And for you, I would like you to remember this that you are not alone and your life is not over. Feel free to email me whenever you can or simply submit to this seeking help posts in this website.
With Love Always,
Felicia The Great
|12 Dec 2005||no-expression||it hurts. like its actually a physical pain. ive never understood how something that has no scar can hurt. but it does. so much. plus there's this constant throbbing. i cant make i stop, its always there. i cant figure that out either. there's also the vaccuum. im standing in a crowd but im he only one there. like theres a shield. or a wall, only a clear one. because i can see through it. i can see everyone else. i call them, wait, no, i scream their names. they should hear me right? i mean, they really should. or wait. maybe im not shouting loud enough? ok i shout louder, but still. nothing. and the weight. that i carry around. this unseen burden that seems to grow with every breath i take. sometimes i try not to breathe. maybe if i dont breathe, then it wont get any heavier than it is now. but i cant stop breathing. my body is my enemy in this game. i say stop breaathing, but it continues. and now i dont know. i want to have it ripped out, please, even if it hurts, i want it to be done. then the sun will shine, right? and the birds will sing for me. because right now they are only singing for everyone else but me.|
|12 Dec 2005||Scor-b||Firstly I would like to say that the post I made yesturday was my only post to incorporate fiction*. All my other posts have been based on stuff that I actually experienced. *This will be obvious to you if you read the post.
I would also like to thank all the people who have e-mailed me over the past months in response to posts that I have made. One of the best things about posting here has been the responses from people who really understand your situation. You should try it. Oh, and for all those of you who have posted without an e-mail, because you will get emailed by 'wankers' I would say, don't worry. - Out of all the emails I have recieved there was only 1 which pissed me off. It was from some relious lady telling me not to kill myself and 'I MUST live' blah blah blahjd.... whatever. Oh well. That got deleted. Apart from that the rest were all great. It's nice to know that there are people who think just like you, and I have learnt alot from the things people have told me; I learnt more about how people think. Which has been great. So, thank-you. I hope I gave good replys. So to conclude, I would like to say God bless* us all. Or Allah bless us, or the devil, or your brother, or whoever you belive in. Oh yeah, and even bless Lucy Bloody Cortina. Who I hate. Haha. *Laughs* Thanks for reading. Scors-b.
|11 Dec 2005||Scors-b||Only 14 months ago I lay in total agony, in my own vomit, on a hospital bed in england. Not a hope in the world; poor, without friends, without family. I had nothing, only worse. I guess I am still the same in a way. Still, there is no one beside me, and still, I have a dream that many would find uneviable; a dream to be closer to my goal of no more pain. In some ways, I am now closer to that dream than I ever have been before. Now a have a plan. Now, I can finally imagine a place where everything that eats away at me from the inside will be gone.
I'm sitting, staring at the screen of a laptop, like I often have. My eyes wander, and I gaze accross the glass pannaling then encases the room in which I'm sitting. Through the glass, there are fluffy white clouds, slowly beggining to redden, as the sun falls. The mannhattan skyline looks pretty tonight. I begin to wonder, how, in a successful city like this, how there can be so many people who just don't care about the suffering beneath thier noses. So captured are they by the media's portarayal of the undeveloped countries, that they forget about how many people around them are suffering. For somehow, it seems easier if 'suffering' is boxed and wrapped and sent to a far away place, along with a donation to charity. It lightens the concience. For me, I dream of a place where people have the courage to listen and understand to those who are in positions of lonelyliness, therefore developing the two most important emotions in human history: empathy, and love...
Box A, Box B. Next Of Kin: Mr X. Where do you plan to go from here? And in five years? Is there a desire in you to make the world a better place? Or would you rather lick influential arses, to promote your own status. At what point does a questionnaire become intrusive. Tell me your wildest secrets, and we will consider you. Thankyou for your time. P.S. Answer as you like, but we will judge you.
My hand touched cold metal. Was there a future for the schoolmasters dream. Cluck, Click, Seven point check. Don't cut corners, you will regret it. Door locked, curtains drawn. Tomorrow was thanksgiving, a day for comtemplation for millions of people. But I could hear them running up the stairs. How had they found out?! Bang!Bang!Bang! "Mr ...? Open the door!" The voice demanded. Silence. "Open this door at once!"
Now there was no more time for contemplation. I loaded the pistol with its final round, held it to my throat, and let off an almightly bang. Three pounds of skull and flesh tore through the air. The chair turned, and there was a thud as my body collapsed to the floor.
There was a solumn silence. Perhaps now I will be able to make sense of the cruel world. And maybe, I will be able to understand why it is that there is so much suffering. Either way, there will be no more. No more of anything.
A blood splattered form was peeled from the desk. A cell phone number was dialed... "Hello? Mr X? I'm afraid I have some bad news.... It's about your son..."
|07 Dec 2005||Malik Bey||First, I will have to say that there is no best or good way to kill yourself at thirteen or any other age. Technically you should not consider this. It is not an option. YOur physical self is needed to BE. Therefore you can't really BE dead or anything else. What makes you YOU or what you BE doesn't end with death.So instead I offer another more Do able solution that does involve DEATH. At 12 and 13 i experienced a very similar situation only i was already too dead to kill myself. I was so finished and just dead to my world that I ceased to exist. If you need to know what sparked it I really don't know exactly and I can bet its not as bad as what you might be experiencing right now but here goes. At 12 i was arrested and accused of assualting and robbing the same young man whom i had just helped get away from some young bullies. They threatened him on a public bus. His parents notified police after he was mugged by the same young bullies the following school day. The boy came to my school with police. He was visibly nervous and he probably only recognized my face from the bus. I was arrested and sent to an adult jail where i spent 2 days before my mother picked me up. Now although the case was dropped by the boy and i wasn't sent to jail, my world would never be the same. Although i was a good kid, no one really believed that i didn't do this. Since then, the climate of my life has never been the same. Its around this time that i would also endure my mother turning to crack cocain and abandoning my self and my two brothers , one would later die of aids,the other is also emotionally disturbed, leaving me in a sort of hell. We werent rich so things got crazy. My brothers, who both hated me and beat me when ever convienient, were already getting in police trouble so i guess i was my mothers last hope. I would spend the next couple years husltlin around on the streets and avoiding people who knew my family prior to the wreck, before we lost the house and were homeless. Thats when i went numb and with no choice but to either end it or go on living in hell. Ive been shot at, arrested(for crimes i did commit),my neighborhood bulldozed over and all of my child hood friends would later also be defeated by dead or jail. We all felt the same pain. Nobody cared nobody loved us. And though we would later rob and steal and hurt people. Thats not what we wanted. Ive seen some of the most dangerous men in our contry cry pools of pain. Pain that never healed.Many of them were killed because THEY DIDN'T HAVE THE GUTS TO DOIT THEMSELVES. Im 30 now. I never hurt anyone and I have yet to hurt myself. I still think about how much I want to end it because i just get so tired. Then i remember what got me out the last time. And the time before that. It certainly wasnt't just about dying back then. Without any therapy I realized that life goes on. The life i want to end is the life that doesn't belong to me.Its the life that belongs to THEM! These people (mom,dad,stepdad,etc..) who don't even see me! They don't even know im alive!!They dont even see me in pain. Thats when i planned my escape. In three long years i would be 16 going on 17. I didnt runaway from home, although home was a drug den and later couches in other peoples home,I involved my self and enrolled my self in every possible thing i could for free. I stayed away from some people, avoided others, and tried supporting my mother while in and out of rehab (although i knew she didn't think much of me anymore).I hung around new people. I called relatives i never knew I had and i disappeared into the new images of ME that i sometimes created. From then on i worked and saved up enough money to leave my urban chaos and go to school across the country. For the 1st two years of college I didnt have to work much with loans and all. I was afraid a bit at first because i was always so antisocial and anxieity ridden when around un familiar people. But i sware, all of the energy that people put into mistreating, misunderstanding, and abusing me gave me the energy to just GO! Get out. Somewhere out there youll find someone who loves you and cares about you and most important someonewho sees you.KILL your OLD self. Give birth to someone new. Change your name. If possible move or move in with a relative(Dont trust any stranger).LET EVERUONE KNOW THAT YOUR NOT HAPPY.Forget'em if they dont like it than they can come KILL YOU. If they cant do that than they dont exist to you anyway. As humans our species is actually made up of many different others. One being reptillian or snakes. Now, as we all know snakes shed theyre skin. Your no different. I threw myself into dreams. I GAVE MYSELF SOMETHING TO LOOK FOWARD TOO once i was away from them pain. Once i was out i was free. No one expected it. They expected me to be a bum or a drug addict or dealer or just KILL MYSELF. I hated them so much i never gave them that satisfaction. They hurt me so much that i in turn made them wanna kill themselves. Its a little bit harder to get even with the system and the police and they still want me dead. They still want me to KILL MYSELF. But i aint dead yet. I still cry alot. i still feel hurt and disappointed in the people who i thought were suppose to love and protect me.I still feel like that 12 year old boy and its hard being alone out here but I can't DIE. Why because I deserve to be HAPPY and ALIVE. I wont stop until thats achieved. I still hold on to the faith that there is somebody out there whos just like me. Looking for love and friendship. Together we can survive all of the ugliness.|
|03 Dec 2005||Princess Oblivious||Close your eyes, hold your breath, write/draw/express your death scene in some way and wait at least 30 more years to see if there really is no reason to live.|
|21 Nov 2005||wow. mouchette not only do you suck but your site sucks too.
i mean i made several posts over 2 weeks ago and your site remains un-updated.
whats wrong mouchette? are you to busy sleeping with men twice your age such as your father grandfather and uncles or is your site screwed up. i got a web site and my PHP is screwed up. :)
you are a stupid whore mouchette. queen of the biznoutches. i bet you cant control yourself around a male family member. first moment of being alone and whooooop, up goes mouchettes skirt.
|08 Nov 2005||billy the freak||due to suicides recent rise in popularity i have again decided to cash in on other peoples misery. hopefully this makes me a lot less miserable. the idea has been crawling around the vacant lot for awhile now and i figure it is time for it to get up and start running. introducing billy's suicide solutions:
imagine this classic problem.
you've been up all night. pure vodka seeps through your pores as you labor over the penmanship and wording of your farewell letter and no matter what you do it just doesn't look right. well no more. let our professional writing staff do the work for you. for the low price of 49.99* you can have a perfect end to a not so perfect life. heres how it works. give us your name, the names of people you might want mentioned in your note, a few choice phrases, and a brief but detailed rundown of the events that led to your final decisions. then pick a parchment and a font. five business days after the completed order date you will have a beautifully styled suicide note. less the strife. at billy's suicide solutions we want your final days easy as possible, because we care about our customers.
*not including all applicable taxes and surcharges minus shipping and handling
|18 Oct 2005||UniversalTourist||this is a koan if i ever saw one
know what a 'koan' is? it's a device used by a zen master to force his students to meditate. the master poses a question, but one that does not have a ready, logical answer. the student meditates upon the question - and may or may not come up with 'the answer', but the important part is the meditation.
what's the best way to kill yourself when you're under 13? clearly there is no logical answer. the only people who could supply an answer would be under-13 year old's who have successfully killed themselves. anybody else is just a poser.
and the posters here reveal a lot of posers. people giving other people advice. i don't care if you're telling me how to kill myself or not to kill myself. i don't want your fucking advice. if u really knew how to kill yourself you'd be dead already. if u don't want to kill yourself, don't pretend to know me, asshole.
i appreciate the people who have shared what methods didn't work for them. at least i'll probably avoid those methods next time
(i don't want to give my e-mail address because i don't want a lot of wankers writing to me)
|15 Oct 2005||Don Ray||Buy a small pine tree. Plant it in your backyard. When it grows to be 200 feet tall, climb up and decide if you really want to go through with it. By that time, you'll probably be at least 90 years old.
You may decided that 90 is just too young for suicide.
|06 Oct 2005||Lucy Cortina||Mouchette has just emotionally ejaculated into my boobies...
I could actually feel his brains filter all of their knowledge and beautiful emotions into my breasts. Perhaps they would become as artistic as Mouchette. I let out a scream of turkish delight, and peered down at my boobs - I could see Mouchette's face pressed in-between them. It had taken so much energy out of him that he'd fallen asleep with a smile on his face. I lay there for a while, enjoying the wonderful feelings he had pumped into my boobs. It was like they'd been given a whole new life. I was in heaven. But I was still on top of a collapsed table, full of chicken breasts coated in garlic butter.
A thought suddenly hit me.
"I'm gonna STINK of garlic! It'll ruin that new pink top I bought at Bonne Marche!".
I threw Mouchette off me, who rolled off the table with a thud and continued dozing. I ran around the mansion, arms flailing, covered in garlic butter, looking for a bathroom. I slipped on a patch of marble flooring, and landed on my back. Evereything went tits up.
A door opened next to me, and a man came out!
"Can I help you madame?" he said, peering down.
"Er..yes, oui. I'm looking for the bathroom, how you say..le...batheroome?"
"Zis way madame" he said, offering me a hand. I glared at him.
I tried to get up by myself but only succeeded in slipping around on the floor like a fish with boobs. It was no use. I reluctantly took his hand, and he hoisted me up.
I had nothing to cover my boobs with but decided I didn't care - the're probably so big they can probably be seen from the Moon by now anyway.
I followed him to the bathroom and said "Merci boucoup", then locked the door. I slumped onto the floor, thinking the nightmare was over.
But nothing in my world is ever that simple...
I noticed that the floor seemed a bit sticky, so I looked down...and let out a scream. There was blood all over the floor!
|01 Oct 2005||chameleon||i think i may have figured out my 15 year plight. you see at a young age i discovered i had to wear glasses because of my poor eye sight. they seem to have always been a bit lop sided. well just the other day i was getting out of the shower and as i finished drying off i gazed upon the glory of my testicals. i was fixed upon them. watching as they just dangled there in the mirror. i noticed one was dangeling a bit more than the other. i began to meditate upon this and then it dawned on me. its true just as everyone had always told me. my glasses were in fact straight. as was my head. its just no one else can see it because they are lop sided as well. trapped in this paradox. however due to the extra sag it has thrown off my whole universe in which i exist. its not just my glasses or my single testical. its not just the words on a page as i read. i have discovered what really is the center of the universe. it is my own family jewels. and since one of them is off centered so is the whole universe. so when you see something leaning a little to the left (northern hemisphere) you wonderfull people who have read my post will know why. i would like to formerly appologize to each and everyone who finds this an inconvenience. i am terribly sorry. however this is not entirely my fault. i plan on having corrective laser surgery to fix this matter so the universe can once again go back to normal. and there can be balance in all our lives. this may also be a major factor in someones brain being in someone elses boobies. im not sure about that though.|
|20 Sep 2005||Lucy Cortina||(continued)
"Oh Lucy!" exclaimed Mouchette. "Oh Mouchette!", exclaimed I. "Give me your brains to keep me alive!" Mouchette ran around the table to where I was seated, ripped open my blouse, and lifted me onto the table. It creaked under the strain.
"Not the breasts!" I said, but it was too late, Mouchette pushed me backwards onto the plates full of chicken breasts, turkey breasts, and so on. It was very slippery.
We made love on top of the table. On top of a table full of breasts.
And he certainly didn't disappoint. At some point during all the passion, the table collapsed, but I didn't notice - I was in such ecstacy. The feelings coming out of his beautiful brains were incredible. Such power, such beauty, such darkness!
My breasts began to slowly expand, but I didn't notice until it was too late. Mouchette rubbed garlic butter over my boobs, and it felt so good I commanded him to continue. He was actually lubricating my boobs in preparation for his evil plan...
As they expanded, small holes began to open in the nipples. I felt like I was going to orgasm. The feeling grew, as Mouchette squeezed and rubbed my boobs, as they inflated, until I reached the point of climax. When I did, a very odd thing happened. Mouchette's brains ejaculated into my boobies! Not physically, but emotionally...
|18 Sep 2005||a person with problems||OK this is the most fucked up post of my life but i thought i should do it.
Its only been a little more then a week since my last post, but since then i tried to die twice, of course no one noticed. I guess is makes me luckey. I then asked for help from my parents who i thought didnt give 2 fucks. I WAS WRONG. They imidiatly took me to a docter got me some meds and schedueld me some appointments with a shrienk. But thats not why im posting. I am posting to offer my help. Ok im 14 older then some of you younger then others but i know what it feels like to be teased relentlessly. I also know what its like to have everything going great and still want to die.
ANYONE THINKING OF SUICIDE, email me i will listen, if you dont want me to try and talk you out of it i wont, but just haveing someone who understands can make a world of diffrence. It did for me, and i am also willing to help you talk to your parents. I am willing to give them advice or even email them for you to tell them what your planing so you can get help.
Please read this and please dont do anything youll regret.
email me at email@example.com
oh ya one last thing all you shitheads who are saying "this site is disgusting" or anything like that SHUT UP this site saved my life. And mouchette if you need help running this site, i can help im good with html and stuff.
|17 Sep 2005||Bobby||Can someone post tips on how to write a suicide note?|
|10 Sep 2005||Lucy Cortina||You may all wonder where I have been these last few months. I'll fill you in:
It was a lovely summers day in gay Paree, birds were singing and french folk were eating croissants. I got a call on my mobile - it was Mouchette. He'd traced my number, the sneaky bastard! He invited me to dinner at his secret mansion, and being curious I agreed. He sent a blacked-out limousine to take me there. Very fancy.
Mouchette's masnion was beautiful, full of towering stained glass windows and turrets. As you'd expect, it was also totally over-the-top. Blood ran down the windows and the door knocker was a striped penis.
"Very lovely", I said as he answered the door, to which he replied "I agree", looking down at my boobs.
He was very polite, and offered me chocolates and wine, which tasted suspiciously like blood.
The main course was, quite appropriately, a selection of breasts. Chicken breasts, turkey breasts, goose breasts - the works. They were all coated in garlic butter.
"These are much nicer than my breasts", I commented as I tucked in.
"Oh I don't know about that...", said Mouchette.
At that point he looked at me from the other side of the table. I looked at him. Our eyes twinkled. In that moment we both knew what we REALLY wanted. I fancied him for his brains - he fancied me for my boobs. I had been lusting after those beautiful artistic brains of his for so long now that it made my very boobs ache.
(If only I knew how accurately my desires were about to be fulfilled...)
|08 Sep 2005||Mouchette's Bitch||Help! Someone help me. Mouchette has imprisoned me in his bathroom as a joke - he knows I'm claustrophobic and it causes my boobs to inflate. He watches me through the 2-way mirror and laughs at me every day. He thinks it's funny when I can barely breathe because my face is pressed against the wall as my breasts expand.
I am sending this message telepathically via one of Mouchette's brains, as his brains are inside my boobies, and he is only using one of them at the moment.
|21 Aug 2005||K||i think that this website was a very good idea even if you didnt mean it to go the way it has.
Im sure that it has helped a lot of people in there quest to find happiness, even if all that is helping them is getting things off their chest. it has also helped me through reading some of the answers and me realising that things could be worse. Another thing is that I came on this website very low, I wanted to kill myself, but from reading the answers, I was turned off suicide, mainly because I thought that pills would be easy, I learnt that they are not.
so i suppose this is a thank you, for making this website.
p.s Oh yeah, I dont know what the best way is to kill yourself, I wouldnt, I have never succeeded.
|09 Aug firstname.lastname@example.org||please dont kill yourself. i will give you three wishes. i am a genie. email me and you will get three wishes. only one rule. you cannot use any wish to wish for more wishes.|
|31 Jul 2005||Scors-b||It was dark outside, and the hospital room felt small, hot. Wind gusted through the small gap in the window, rustleing the blinds. There was a distant light from through the glass panel on the door, where the night staff must have been.
I woke with shock, although I was sure I hadden't slept for a month. I felt like death, hardly able to move.
Checked the time in anticipation. It was 06:16, and my drip had run out, as the doctor said. My bed sheets were soaking with sweat. There was no sound apart from the static in my ears. Then I knew what was coming. Thick black fluid and stomach acid rushed up through my gullet, spewing out of my mouth desparatly. It didn't stop. Unable to breathe I pulled towards the basin in the corner of the room. It kept coming, blocking air from my lungs. Gasping for air and trying so hard to stay still, I turned my head. The bed sheets had been stained, a stream of black mixture flowing accross them. I think I could hear the night nurse on my left, but another gut wrentching dose of vomit blocked out anything she said. I stood, for a while, praying there was no more to come, and yet still embracing the horrific pain that pumped through my veins and muscles. I made a guided collapse to a chair, and the nurse declared she was going to get clean sheets. I sat in shock. It would be several days before I could walk again.
Suicide is not a game. If anyone wants the benefit of my experiance, please email me.