|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?
|30 Mar 2003||Chris||Previously I have written suicide ways which I frankly don't know why they have been put in the 'cruel jokes' section. Sometimes suicide is not necessary and it's better to kill the people bugging you than yourself. Here are...
Five Ways To Kill A Man
There are many cumbersome ways to kill a man
You can make him carry a plank of wood to the top of a hill and nail him to it.
To do this properly you require a crowd of people wearing sandles, a cock that crows, a cloak to dissect, a sponge, some vinegar and one man to hammer the nails home.
Or you can take a length of steel,
shaped and chased in a traditional way,
and attempt to pierce the metal cage he wears.
But for this you need white horses,
English trees, men with bows and arrows,
at least two flags, a prince, and a castle to hold your banquet in.
Dispensing with nobility, you may, if the wind allows
blow gas at him. But then you need
a mile of mud sliced through with ditches,
not to mention black boots, bomb craters,
more mud, a plague of rats, a dozen songs
and some round hats of steel.
In an age of aeroplanes, you may fly
miles above your victim and dispose of him by pressing one small switch. All you then require is an ocean to separate you, two systems of government, a nation's scientists, several factories, a psychopath and land that no one needs for several years.
These are, as I began, cumbersome ways
to kill a man. Simpler, direct, and much more neat is to see that he is living somewhere in the middle of the twentieth century, and leave him there.
If these Five ways are too complicated, suicide is the way......
|29 Mar 2003||Lucy Cortina||Warm bosoms, I quite agree. That's why the likes of Fakey Britney Spears are such cold-harted bitches, you don't get the same guarantee when you shove pieces of cold slimey chicken into your goods.
Warm-blooded, warm-breasted, and a whole lotta ass :)
|28 Mar 2003||Felicia||Three cheers to all human-kind, Lucy! The driving force of the key to happiness are warm bosoms along with a warm heart!|
|28 Mar 2003||Marius Mackellar|| Where are you wounded girls, with bruised faces and blackened eyes?
Break open your glass doors, welcome the whirling debris...
Carve your name there in the marble and concrete.
Kill idiot violence, punish greed, punish me. Run naked through the streets stabbing bloody eyes and scream. i pray for you murderous,
i pray for you well-honed and clean. i pray for you any way your violent nature needs you to be... And i praise your name.
i praise the taste of the word on my tongue, and i praise your righteous, rising hate. i praise your soft lips, and i praise your revenge.
i praise your tenderness and your skin, and i praise your pure, uncorruptible pain.
i like you like this, lying there on your side. i praise the scars on your body, and i praise your black mirrored eyes.
So rise above the garbage. Leave me where i fall.
Rise above the wreckage.
Kill anything that walks.
Free from your past, free of your future too, there's nothing left to rise above but you.
Show me your ocean red, kiss the scars that stain my neck, drug me with insights untrue.
But i own a photograph, you lie there naked on your back, safe in a stone house on the sea.
There's nothing true and nothing's real, but i remember one clear feeling, warmth beside your gentle company.
When i lay dying upon some bed, i hope that you'll remember this:
the only one i want to see is You.
~AnGeL Of LiGhT
|27 Mar 2003||Michael Mackellar||INOSTUS. ~In possibility everything is possible. For this reason, it is possible to become lost in possibility in all sorts of ways, but primarily in two. The first takes the form of desiring, craving; the other takes the form of the melancholy-imaginary (hope/fear of anxiety). Legends and fairy tales tell of the knight who suddenly sees a rare bird and chases after it, because it seems at first to be very close; but it flies again, and when night comes, he finds himself separated from his companions and lost within the wilderness where he now is.
So it is with all desire's possibility. Instead of taking the possibility back into necessity, he chases after possibility... and at last cannot find his way back to himself. In melancholy the opposite takes place in much the same way. Melancholically enamored, the individual pursues one of anxiety's possibilities, which finally leads him away from himself so that he is a victim of anxiety or a victim of that about which he was anxious lest he be overcome...
No more negativity. The illness has passed. Again.
|24 Mar 2003||Lucy Cortina||There's nothing more that brings a tear to my bosom than hearing that my beauty (s) saved another soul, Felicia.
Let breasts continue to save lives, as were they designed for.
It's amazing that breasts can bring so much joy to this world.
Someone once said of Kylie Minogue: "You can't plan your career around your ass" (but you can plan your private life around it!)
But breasts are a whole different kettle of bras, they can rebuild this shattered world.
3 cheers for breasts!
|23 Mar 2003||Felicia - Your Guardian Angel in Disquise||My offered suggestion. The world is a mess. The only way you can get out of this deep blue funk is by breathing. I see and hear people saying that committing suicide is stupid and they never tell you why. Committing suicide is too much of an easy way out. It's about as simple as opening a can of soda and drinking it. When people ask how they should kill themselves, it is because they are afraid to even attempt it. I can offer all the solutions in how one can kill themselves and offer imaginative ideas in how you can do it in a "dramatic way". But that would defeat my purpose in helping you. You know, I was walking one morning on an unpaved sidewalk in a city we always call "the place that Frank left his heart at" and happened to look at the Golden Gate Bridge. San Francisco is the place I call home and I have many friends here. Though I am not homosexual, I have many homosexual friends and love all of them. I was talking to my friend Jimmy one day and he told me that I lacked common sense. I said, "Why?" Well, he said my place is a mess and it looked like shit, my home life is in shambles, my family sucks, and my Iguana is always starving. One day, I wanted to kill myself because I felt like it. Then I went to the search engine and found this website. Then I read about Lucy Cortina and Billy the Freak's conversations, back and fourth, and it made me feel much better. Though I think Lucy Cortina may think that I have a few screws loose and she lost all respect for me, doesn't mean I can't look at her talented chats back and fourth with cool famous people with her momentous episodes of boob jokes. I laughed my ass off and said, "Gee, life is pleasant after all! So you see, committing suicide is not fun. My friend, my young one, my old one, age doesn't matter, I feel your pain. If you can find one thing that makes you happy, go for it. Because you missed out on many things and people bring you down, doesn't mean you should end your life. It's sad to say that it will not bring someone close to you or love you more. You would just be a statistic. My suggestion is this, try something that you never attempted doing by taking a plane to a different town or country and see the world. If you can't afford it, save for it. I know that running away from your problems never helps, but taking a trip to see other countries or cities never hurt. Then explore what it would be like in a place that you never experienced before. My friend, life is full of new experiences. Look how beautiful it is in the sky at night and look out at the stars. Make a wish on every shooting one, and believe that wish. Its when you dont believe that you often fail. Wish yourself out of this deep blue funk and write the wildest things that you want to do. Buy a journal and write your dreams down. Do it as a favor for me? Please?
And by the way, dont let the state of the world get you down. Dont even think of it, just think of you for a change and relax. And first start with breathing better and treating yourself to a nice cool glass of ice water. Please! Dont drown yourself! Because you will not be breathing!!! Purchase a set of headphones and listen to your favorite songs. The world around you can be put on hold for just a moment and remember try not to analyze it so much. Just relax.
|23 Mar 2003||Felicia||My definition of W A R is quite simple. I think of it as two spoiled little boys fighting over ownership of an expensive toy gun. Both parents of the boys hate each other. Neither party likes each other nor they both make a mountain out of a molehill. Hatred becomes the conclusion of the situation. Big WARS like the ones we face now all derive from the mentality. Jealous and spoiled grown up boys trying to conquer the world creating dissension for everyone and peddling each others governmental assets on missiles and military equipment, rather than helping the unfortunate starving economy and unstructured businesses rebuild. With all the useless spending spent on shells I would have bought a mansion and a yacht, along with a Porsche Boxter. Useless spending? No wasted time, unnecessary loss of lives, and less mansions with yachts.
Bombs or mansions? Take your pick. Gosh?! I would have had great boob surgery by now and had a reservation table at Lizas party. Opps! Forgot, she cancelled out because of the war fiasco darn!
|21 Mar 2003||Mary-Annette Mackellar||SO DAMN INSANE.
Some of us are weak, and some endure.
Some people live their lives with a violence that is pure and clean. But i saw a man cry once, down on his knees, in a corner of a darkening cell, and his pain meant nothing to me. But i was younger then, and young men never cry. When i walked out in the sun i was strong, clear-minded and Blind.
Remove my hand from your pocket. Pluck my eye from your socket. i am your secret sharer. Bleeding beneath your covers. Show me the texture of your pregnant tongue. Prepare my mind with abortion. Drown me with rose scented honey-milk. Configure my soul with your voice of silk. Why am i so cruel? Why do i Love you? Why are you so beautiful? ...Because you are cruel. ~m.gira
|18 Mar 2003||Lucy Cortina||What if I decide to rent my boobs, Danny?
I was faxed earlier today from Sadham Insane requesting the purchase of atomic weapons. He needs them as protection. I hope agent Billy succeeds soon. My mind is all cofuzzled as to what to do.
To rent, or not to rent, that is the question.
Although, didn't they say Shakespare was gay? Damn, that cancels out asking him for breastial advice.
Meanwhile I've been observing movements within Buckingham palace. Prince Charles' aide has resigned following an internal probe. He used to perform duties such as squeezing the prince's toothpase onto a brush for him.
I asked Charles if he could add further to the situation.
He's unavailable for comment.
Because he's stuck on the toilet, waiting for someone to come and wipe his ass.
|15 Mar 2003||Danny Keaton||..continued...
we have our top agent, Billy, disguised as Tony Blair, carefully working his homosexual charms on BUSH (which is not as easy as it may sound). Well, he's been stuck up BUSH's arse for long enough now, anyway.
Daniel Keaton of the SSSS, the biggest branch of Infostream.Inc.
|15 Mar 2003||Danny Keaton||Dr Kildare, Lucy, is currently busy on an important project.
Our Infostream scientist, known as Herbert Egg, has been developing and refining his new invention the "boob-bomb" (not to be confused with the "Sex-bomb"). Undoubtedly YOU, Lucy, will be first in line to test out this wonderful, er, accessory.
Herbert had the gruelling task of placing boob-bomb bras on the chests of our model agents, and so your problem was overlooked, Lucy.
But never fear - we shall send someone as soon as we can. Your breasts are Infostream's biggest "assets" to the agency in all my 26 years of being an SSSS agent. They will be saved, like Iraq, you can count on that. Well, unless of course our arch-nemesis "BUSH" cannot be stopped.
|15 Mar 2003||Felicia||The candle light setting was romantic. The lighting in the restaurant was extremely cozy as the melodic tunes of "Alfie" played on the Steinway piano. There was "Mr. Blue Eyes" looking straight at me. His eyes were the bluest of bluest. That night, the food tasted exquisitely delicious. My choice of Alfredo Fettucini had a slight taste of the best creamy cheese in the world made from the freshest ingredients (no commercial pun intended). The olive oil served with the bread was absolutely, positively delicious! The picked portabella mushrooms served with a hint of endives was a compliment in the meal itself. For dessert, the Tiramisu and the espresso coffee was the icing on the cake. Staring at "Mr. Blue Eyes" was more exciting. Reese, finally popped the bottle of Champagne as the moon hit my eye like a big pizza pie. "Oops!" He said. "I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking!" Gently cupping the left side of my eye, Reese (Mr. Blue Eyes) spoke to me in calm-like fashion, and wrapped the champagne ice from the bucket, in the red linen cloth, and covered my left eye. An hour later after the incident, we slowed dance to the soft piano music playing. Dancing next to us was a handsome couple who had years behind them. The night was young, and the moon was full. The stars winked brightly in the night sky.
It made me think that at 14, I was glad that I didn't swallow those iron pills.
-Not the end-
|14 Mar 2003||Lucy Cortina||Well Danny, what can I say? My bra is certainly so big that you could string it all around the streets of Rome. I've faxed Mission Control about the alarming growth rate of my boobs, but they ignore the issue - they refused to send Dr. Kildare to inspect my problem.
As for Mission Vixy, well, when the vicars see my huge inflatables tumbling down the hill, they will think it's the second coming of Jesus and flee.
Jesus never did approve of nakedness. As we all know...
|14 Mar 2003||Marius Mackellar||PAPIER TUE-MOUCHE$
Exordiumatically, deponent precateth otity orient exaudient,
dole basilical's assumpt.
Pragmatics, ex Ventro Genesiaco ad umbilicum Apocalypticum,
determinated logomachoepy's nodal puncts,
Ergmoiraetic, apert parthenorhododactylical,
To tear my youth with desperate knives,
to wear this paltry soul's demise
What few upon this plain dare see;
the Inhumane in Humanity
Such silence here my Sadness feeds
upon the needs of an Artless breed.
|13 Mar 2003||Danny Keaton||Lucy, Madame, you are going the right way about getting a smacked bottom, and you well know it. Mission control will not tolerate anymore panty twitching - you've had your fun.
If your latest naked-vicar-UK mission does not end successfully, you will be stringed up from the streets of Rome by your bra, be sure of that.
Daniel Keaton of Super Secret Spy Sex.
|13 Mar 2003||Lucy Cortina||Danny,
the stuffed olive suit no longer exists. Oil breaks down the rubber, like condoms, everyone knows that. Tell mission control that I want a pay rise and extended leave immediately! I've been stuck in this rotten suicidal dump for long enough!
Oh, and a new bra wouldn't go amiss...
Lucy Cortina, Agent 00 oh oh! of the SSSS.
|12 Mar 2003||Felicia||"Political Fries"
There I was at a burger joint, eating a vegetarian burger. I told the counter lady, "May I have a side of french fries with that?" She said, "What fries?" and I again said "French fries!" The clerk said, "We don't serve french fries anymore. Would you like to buy a bag of chips instead?" I said, "Alright." After ringing up my order on the register, the clerk gave me my receipt and I went my merry way to the table. Opening the bag and grabbing the first chip, I found that it was very stale. Later, I nibbled on my vegetarian burger and later took a sniff of the air. Suddently, a loud frying sound permeated my ears at a sound, whatever the decible it was, I can hear it. It was the sound of french fries being fried. I saw a young couple ordering burgers with a side of french fries. Infuriated and mad, I got up to the counter and asked the clerk again, "I thought you were not serving french fries?!!' "We are not", the clerk said with an irritating voice. I said, "Listen, I see that couple with a side of fries with their burgers." The clerk said, "Oh! You want fries with your burger! Why didn't you tell me?" In bite back mode I said, "Lady, all my life they always called those fried potatoe thingies 'french fries'." Do you understand?" The clerk said, "Maam, we don't call those french fries, we call them 'Freedom Fries'. That was the end of it. I ran out of Cubbie's restauraunt all mad. It was bad enough that the U.S. wants to take the French out of the fries, and I keep wondering why I voted for President Bush. I thought he would change it to where the Europeans and the U.S. citizens would collaborate and now it seems the French will be left out of it. Gawd forbid!
The next day I went to McDonalds to order a cheeseburger. The McDonalds clerk politely said, "Would you like a side of french fries with that?"
It's not the end yet. Armageddon begins.
|12 Mar 2003||Danny Keaton||RE: Lucy Cortina's "stuffed-olive" party escapade-
The stuffed olive suit was made for purposes of super sexy secret spy missions, not one of your fancy man filled cocktail parties. Mission control wants a word with you once you've sobered up.
Daniel Keaton of SSSS.
|11 Mar 2003||Felicia||People will think you're insane when you reveal too much information. You know, the ole' (TMI) appoach. It makes one realize that if words were chosen wisely, then people will like you. In a cut throat world such as this it makes you wonder what purpose do you have here? Is it to wallow in misery to get by through the day or are you living a life just to exist? I see people in television have so much to do. Check out the Babes at Baywatch, and the only thing you see mainly is just "tits" and "ass". You see teenagers girls swiping cellphones, wearing scantily Britney Spears clothing with friends, young boys dress up in grunge, with baggy clothing, while observing adults peering down through grocery aisles with this ear piece stuck in their ear just to look cool and chatting about nothing in particular to waste their air time minutes.Then you're on the road on a workday morning and have to wait for the lane to clear as soon as the meter lights change from red to green, green to red, in a span of 6 seconds. And you see people on cell phones driving, while not paying attention to the road. Then the workday starts when you begin a presentation project and manage a whole bunch of water cooler loafers sticking around the coffee break room, talking about "American Idol" and what's up with Howard Stern. Then you advise these people to get back to their units to begin their projects, getting dirty stares, and you wonder sometimes why we are having a downturn of the economy. It's lazy workers I bet? Using company resources by taking office supplies, having expensive office parties for no reason, and coffee bags coming from the friendly neighbourhood Starbucks. At the end of the workday, you drive home and find that your car is running low on gas, and the only option is to run on fumes. Then you find that the nearest gas station and see that the gas rates are $2.19 to almost $3.00 per gallon for regular. In Europle, gosh... I can just imagine! Then you wonder why some people would like to kill themselves because they can't handle the world. It's when you have too much time, or too little in their hands and wonder when depression kicks in. Kids, living with parents is never easy. Living with siblings is never easy either. Then you see "The Osbornes" and see their rich and spoiled pets and children, and go to "Special Features" on their dvd then play a game of "Doggie Dookie". Heaven forbid. That's it! Don't kill yourself because you have way too much or too little time on your hands. If people don't like you and don't agree, why do it to satisfy them? The only way that you can survive in this world is to do things on your own and not depending on others to take care of things for you. As for me, I am beginning today by just shutting off the television set and putting the daily news in the recycle bin. Two things that I did to contribute to this world. Shut off the electricity, work on a battery operated laptop, and recycling. There I just saved the planet. Don't have a hole for a burial plot, because it cost way too much money for the people you care about. And don't worry about me, I am on lunch break and it is now 12:38pm Eastern Standard time. Using my own laptop, my own batteries, and my own portable dsl telephone line.|