|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?
|09 Sep 2002||Lucy Cortina||Oooh! You cheeky cheeky boy billy! You know what I'm talking about..
I've been thinking, about my breasts. They're too small now. Should I have implants? BUT..I heard that Daniella Westbrook fell over on the pavement and hers exploded or something. They just popped! That scares me. And to have the 2 done at once would cost double, methinks. But, you won't get a man saying "Cor, that's a nice knocker girl!" will you? Men's brains work in a way that only 2 will do.
I don't much understand implants. Do you have to have the air pumped in every so often? Like, if I went to the petrol station do you think they'd allow me to re-pump them?
"Hope you don't mind if I fill the nungas up, mate?" "Sure Luce, that'll be £5.50". And then I could attract all the lorry drivers there as I'm filling 'em up.
Uh, enough of breasts.
I've got some Paroxetime today, I'm hoping that will be good for me.
PS - Billy, I hope you have aspirations to be the nu Eminem!
|09 Sep 2002||the incredible hulk||okay, i am not twelve-sorry, but do want to kill myself. i am super human freak. you see, at one time i was a successful doctor in a chemical engineering company. then one day the unthinkable took place. an explosion covered me with a mixture of chemicals that mutated me into what i am today. sure, i am strong as a hundred men. fine, i can leap 400 feet in the air. i don't mind being immune to desease or pain, but why did my skin have to turn green? i can't get girls like this. do you know how hard it is for me being so alone? i use my super powers to save the world, yet no one in the world wants to curl up next to me. oh well, anyway the real reason i am writing is for advice. you know, bullets don't penetrate my flesh, and no blade is sharp enough to cut me. i have already derailed a train, so how do i kill myself?|
|07 Sep 2002||Lucy Cortina||Oh my.. gosh.. billy! You are really spoiling uz vith zeez chocolates!
I just had a reduction!!!
|06 Sep 2002||the marvelous 3||i spend a lot on all the clothes that i got, because all the geeks that i meet they all seem cooler than me. what to do when they're all looking at you. because you're the freak of the week, because you're on the tv.
i got a shrink i swear he's elvis i think he got the coolest suede shoes when i come in with the blues. he says it's all about culture and art but the truth of it is it rips me apart.
can you make me a promise? stop it before it begins. and will you hold on to my head if i ever loose it again?
tell me i sold out. tell me i sold out go ahead.
|05 Sep 2002||The Marvelous 3||I was checked in by four. Put the sign on the door. I looked out the window of the seventeenth floor. I talked to the city that knows me by name and all the bad things that i do.
I shed five bitter tears into five bitter beers, took a look at my watch and said where have the years gone. I'm wasting away like a castle of clay slowly crumbling too.
I was fucked up by five, talking nothing but jive. Said to the bartender "You'll never take me alive." all of this because my favorite show was cancelled last night on tv.
I called up marie she'll have sex for free, but for ten dollars an hour she will listen to me. We'll talk about rock stars and models on dope, and why i can't cope with this scene.
Every Monday I get this pain.
Every Wednesday it hits my brain.
Every Friday I die,
because everyday, I still think of you.
|03 Sep 2002||billy||CONVERSATIONS OVERHEARD AT A PARTY:
-somebody spiked the punch...
-i thought you spiked it already...
-yeah, i mean i DID, but i'm saying somebody spiked it AGAIN...
-hey guys, what's new and exciting?..
-nothing really, this guy just went and spiked the punch after dude here ALREADY spiked it...
-that's funny, i poured a bottle of rum into the punch before i came over here...
-well, you know what this means...
-_--->HAND OUT ROOFIES!!!
-hey man, do you think it is wrong to TELL a girl your suicidal to get them to sleep with you?..
-that one makes you sound too pathetic. try telling them you're a virgin, that works for me all the time...
-dude, i had to bring my dad...
-what the hell, why'd ya have to bring your dad!?
-he said i couldn't come unless he came...
-how lame is that? listen to what you are saying man, so what if you get mister willie wet tonight. you can't cum unless your dad cums. how you gonna work that one JUNIOR? where the hell is your suck ass dad anyway?..
-he drove down to the distributor to pick up a keg. he said there isn't enough beer here for him AND everybody else...
-well then... if he needs help bringing that keg in here make sure you come and get me, right...
-hey, can i use your truck? i got to go score some pot...
-yeah, here, wait... do i even know you?...
-no man, you don't know me, but i know one of your sisters' friend's boyfriend, he is on the rugby team with me.
-what! man, do you even have a driver's license?..
-funny thing, i had it suspended last year for getting into a nasty accident. this guy wanted me to drive his girlfriend home. i told him i was drunk. he told me i was nowhere near as drunk as he was. man, was he wrong...
-that isn't funny, what makes you think i'm going to let you use my truck then...
-i'm not drunk now...
-you sound drunk...
-that's just because you're drunk. look at my red lips. i have only been drinking PUNCH.
-well, be quick then...
-girl, what you doing at this party?..
-i heard that lucy girl was going to be here...
-what lucy girl?..
-that lucy cortinez...
-oh i know who you're talking about. the one with the big...
-yeah, and the huge...
-right, i know exactly who you talking about, girl...
|30 Aug 2002||Cut Lip||James was a con-artist. He lived in a half-way house and spent his measly peddlings on heroin. I saw him one day walking down the street. He asked me for a quarter. I gave it to him. He told me what it was for. I told him that honesty is the best policy and the truth would get him far. That's when I decided that the bricks surrounding my cell were so tightly enclosed that no one could have been in there with me. Who the hell was I just talking to. Who am I talking to now?
|29 Aug 2002||Jeanie||Last night after having one of the worst of my many bad days I was laying in my room looking up at the man-made sky. You know? The lil glow in the dark stickers that people put on their ceilings to get that "fake outside" feeling. I never understood why people get those. There is a FREE beautiful sky right outside. It isn't hard to get to and you don't have to get a good seat like at a concert. It's always the same sky and it never fails to amaze me. So I just layed there... looking at my fake sky that the resident before me had put up. I decided to go on a fake star boycot and go outside to see the real stars. They always seem to cheer me up after my awful days... I was looking up at the big dipper, and the little dipper, and all those other stars and constellations that I can't remember the name of. I was thinking about all the shit that had gone on that day. How my boyfriend and my best friend were caught having sex in the stair-well of my school, and how my boyfriend slammed the door on my nose when he opened the stair-well door again after putting on the clothes that were thrown all over the place that was "our spot", and not to mention my car being towed because I happened to park in a different spot than what my permit said to... ONE DAMN SPACE OVER!!! Then, as I finally started to think how none of this bad day mattered. How it is just going to be a really really bad memory after all the fights, healing, and impounds were all over with. I started to think how I would get everyone back tomorrow. People say two wrongs don't make a right, but hell if it isn't fun to watch the people that did you wrong squirm!! First there was the question of how to get back at Trent (my boyfriend.. newly EX boyfriend). "He has a really good friend that has eyed me since me and Trent started dating a few months ago"... I was starting to figure out an ingenious plan... involving ex's best friends, friend's ex's and the principal's BMW... I looked up the the stars that had started giving me comfort and I started to smile. Then I see this gray blotch up in the sky.. I looked closely and squinted my eyes wondering what it could be. It seems too small to be a cloud and too big to be a plane. Then.. "OH SHIT IT'S POURING!!" It's the clearest night I've seen all year and it's raining!?!?!?! Go Figure...
Just as you start to have a good moment... God pisses on you!
|26 Aug 2002||Lucy Cortina||Kelly you lil' puddin'... it's only a bit of fun my dear.
Have you ever fancied streaking in the rain, in one of the most crowded streets of London? Boobs bobbling, bottom wobbling in just your nik-nicks? It's fun, IT IS! It may bring a greater enhancement to your life.. similar to this site. Why do we come back, eh? If not only to try outdo each other..
Like everyone else, after coming here I go sit in the jacuzzi of my big country house in the middle of the English countryside. I might even have a sip of tea from my china cup.. or a french fancy, crumpet or scone. I might even have fish and chips when I'm slumming it. But I always come back here.
Call it a drug if you will. It certainly beats the competition known as chatrooms where they have such silly names, like Fanny's Yang, Auntie Hot, Hotboi 4 u etc. Here we like the simple life, with simple names. And I have my Billy... if not only for a little foreplay before going to the next naughty site.
Stay Kelly. This site is will be fun for you, if you let it.
|26 Aug 2002||Lara||I tried tylenol pm, 50 of them in fact, didn't do a damn thing, tried hanging myself, duzn't work, tried sitting out in the snow for hours, barely dressed, tried everything, the knife won't slit my throat, the razor won't slice my vein, all i want is a gun. but i wonder if the bullet will do anything...|
|24 Aug 2002||Lucy Cortina||That's ok Billy...so long as the wriggly diddly doesn't make a dirty squirty, it's abso-lutely-fine.
Tune in tomorrow for Lucy's great metaphorical big red bottom! Similar to a baboon, this indicates when the Lucy is 'in the mood'. And sometimes she...
oh, you'll just have to wait my dear!
Did you know that the black-widow spider can have multiple orgasms??
|24 Aug 2002||Lucy Cortina||I hate my nose. As it is so big, it means not only do I look like one of those clever people, who, incidentally have no mates, but also that I can smell things more than other people. Well, that's my theory. It's obvious - bigger the nose, greater the sense of smell, right? I wonder if lurker spots enhance or hinder this?
Anyway, I detect lots of smells. I can tell when my teacher has been eating garlic. However, he always stinks of garlic, like most teachers. I bet he's a vampire. The amount of homework he gives us is certainly evil.
Anyway, I always detect whiffs of stuff in my room. I suspect the cat has left a few smelly surprises, known as decomposed mice and birds for me. They say that in a cat's brain, they think giving dead mice to you is like a 'present'.
Anyway, to get rid of the unknown smell I've been spraying frantically deodorant everywhere. Now it stinks of a pine forest (eughh!) and I'm choking and wheezing to death.
That reminds me. What is the point of air freshener for toilets? For example, Pine Forest spray. You do your business in the toilet. Then you spray your little bottle, and voila! It smells of a pine forest. But then it just smells like you did your business in a pine forest!! What's the difference?!
Oh and Billy.. just ohh! You know what seeing you back does to me, don't ya, babe?
|23 Aug 2002||billy||the bitch would not shut up. i secretly wished larynx cancer on her. i am glad she is not psychic or she would have stabbed me by now. i remembered back to my days as a cub scout and one of the lessons they had tought me. friction... friction causes heat, and heat causes fire, i also remember how hard it it was to start that fire using two little sticks. they assured it could be done. i guess what i'm trying to say is, trying to get a word in now would be like rubbing two sticks together. hard as hell and if i was to succeed it would only start a fire. "i don't think this relationship is working out- blah blah yack yack! you don't even try to make things better- wha wha yack blah! you know it is hard for me to say this but, you know my mom is right!" what!? did she just say she agrees with her mother? the last time they agreed is when her mother said "why don't you run away with that tramp boyfriend". i happen to be that tramp boyfriend. at that time the pain stopped for her parents. the burning cancer like pain started for me... i'm a dope, a dope head, as matter of fact that's how we met, and come to think of it that is the only thing that keeps us together. " you make me sick- yip yip yip! the sight of you makes me want to fucking puke- arf bark growl!" (sounds like you are going through withdrawl bitch). she took a brief moment from her rants to take a breath, or to think of the next insulting thing she was going to say to me. either way i thought was my chance to rub two sticks together. i must have tried to speak too quick because all my words jammed into a ball in the front of my mouth. i spit them out onto the floor. (THUD) " you dumb ass, what the hell, you don't even make sense when you talk- blassy blassy blew blew!" i received my fire starting badge. (thank you scout leader). despite the aching in my arms and legs, i bent over to pick up my twisted jumble of speech. i proceeded to brush them off and stick them in my back pocket next to the stampers of heroin i just bought. i am a man of few words, i would save them for when i bring the bags out then she will be all ears like any smack fiend. "what are you doing you don't even listen when i talk, you son of a bitch- wassy wassy winkly woo! so who did you fuck last night?" okay time to change the subject "bitch! shut the hell up i'm sick of you fucking yelling at me, now do you want to do this dope or what?". her irate face and rigid body melted down to a shaking dirty dope whore. "you really got dope?" she asked in a whole different demeanor, the one i can deal with. "i wouldn't say it if i didn't mean it babe" i replied in the same manner. all of a sudden there was no signs of an argument, or no signs of one sided verbal abuse. i pulled the bags out along with what i was going to say before: "you need to stop yelling at me". however i said it in such a docile manner it didn't mean much, besides she was to busy masturbating the bags with her eyes. "you're going to have to spike me" she said in a tired voice. it was obvious, she trembled like a man on death row. in a series of wordless movements i tied her off and shot her up, after her body blissfully orgasmed she layed her head on my lap and started rubbing my knee. "i love you" she said. i didn't bother to answer untill i was done and feeling the same way. "i know" i replied.|
|16 Aug 2002||Lucy Cortina||Typical! I just get back from my holidays and everyone else has gone on them!
Oh well, at least I have 2 huge ballon things known as breasts to keep me company (have I mentioned this before? they're organically home-grown.. none of your Britney Silicones nonsense!)
I had an interesting experience yesterday though, which I will care to share:
I left a plum in school bag over holidays. Little flies kept emerging from little front pocket. Drew nearer and nearly collapsed cos of disgusting smell. Decided it was best to wash bag in bath. Did that. Bath full of bloody rotten plum pieces and little insects. Flushed them down the drain. Felt satisfied. A thought struck me. Looked into the small pocket of my bag. Let out a scream. Absolute disaster. My postcards were in it soaked with water (including one from a secret admirer)! What shall I do now? The evidence has vanished in the haze cos the ink has dissapeared! Bad luck!
And I'm slowly developing into a disturbed young woman...
|16 Aug 2002||Danny||I sometimes go for a long walk. You know. To find something. Not really sure what, and I never really find anything. But then that's life, isn't it?|
|12 Aug 2002||Lucy Cortina||YAY! What a joy to be home again! Oh wow..to the awful stench of the bore next door (neighbour) putting awful manure on his garden. Ughh. I wouldn't be surprised if it's his own manure too.
Is there such a thing as vegi-sexuals, do you reckon, Mouchie? If so then HE is one. He spends so much time amongst his cabbages that it's unreal, and probably illegal. He tends to them like a lover would her mans dinner. Why am I surrounded by les idiots?
A few weeks away from the likes of mum, and her abnormally large behind (she could send it off to Africa, I'm sure it'd keep the starving going for at least 12 months) and dad with his 'inventions', such as the spoon that times the egg (LONG STORY!). I suspect while I've been away he's been in my knicker drawer to feed his desire to be a woman.
Ok.. I'm getting a bit dried up now, ain't I?
The point I'm trying to make is that I'M BACK ..and ..um....
where is my Billy?
|01 Aug 2002||Verito||These are two different questions, aren't they? I will answer question #1: I think in the toy should be included a colorful plastic pill bottle (empty of course). A plastic razor blade. a rope made of paper. also some literature on suicide, why other people attempt it, how many attempts people usually make before they are successful, how people come to change their minds about killing themselves (all in age appropriate language, of course). This is a very interesting idea for a toy. I could see how it would inflame some people. I think it is still very interesting.|
|10 Jul 2002||billy||you know annette, being dead isn't very cool. killing yourself certainly doesn't make you popular. it doesn't make your parents love you anymore. it doesn't make that ex-boyfriend you thought you loved come back. it doesn't make anything better. you would probably get your name in the local paper under the obituaries. woop dee do. you wouldn't be alive to read it.
think about things that would make your life better. it does get better.
|09 Jul 2002||billy||i bet you are wondering why i stopped calling myself billy is a freak? well, it seems there is a group of people who decides if you're a freak or not. they call themselves the freak recruiting association or f.r.a. for short. so get this, three people show up at my door, well.. .four if you count the siamese twins. they flash these badges at me. "what the hell is going on?" i ask. i guess the bearded lady was the brains of the outfit because she did most of the talking. "let me explain ourselve: since freakshows have been banned from circuses and carnivals we have formed an association which only purpose is to preserve the traditional nature of freakhood." in compleate awe of the situation i let her continue. "it is to our understanding that you claim to be a freak mr. billy". she sounded like joe friday from dragnet. "why yes" i said confidently. her mustache curved with the contour of her lip. i believe she was smiling, i'm not sure. "may we please step in mr. billy? if you cooperate this will only take a moment of your time." she still had that nasty smile. "come on in. i have nothing to hide. i am just as much a freak as any of you." that was the wrong thing to say. the bearded lady was obviously offended by that statement." listen here buddy if you were half the freak i am, i was headlining barnum and bailey's sideshow when you were still a glimmer in you dad's whisky glass!" i shut up. "we put up surveillance cameras all around your house and office. there is no apparent freakyness. tiny here, she points to a 20 inch man who was standing next to a relatively normal looking man, has been hiding in your laundry basket in attempts to find any hidden oddities that might be under your clothes. he reports none". okay i thought. "mr. billy we have reason to believe you're not a freak at all, and to pose as one would be fraudulent and punishable by a 15,000 dollar fine and/or five years in prison by f.r.a. law. as a last attempt to defend myself i pointed to my two front teeth. "look i have a slight overbite and i am fifteen pounds over weight". all four of them laughed at me. "that is hardly enough to classify yourself as a freak" she said as she sat an official looking envelope on my coffee table. "we will show ourselves to the door, good day mr. billy". they then turned and left. first the bearded lady, then the siamese twins, then tiny, then finally the normal looking man who shut the door behind him. which was odd because he shut it with the extra appendage growing out the small of his back. the envelope the freaks left simply said in writing that i will stop referring to myself as a freak or i will pay the consequences. so thought about it. billy the freak is no more. billy the odd, no. billy the imperfect it just doesn't have the same ring. billy will suffice.
|09 Jul 2002||Madame Blousson||I came to this site so I could find peace,
but ever since that day I've become obese.
For I stay here all day, laughing all the way,
Mouchette - won't you service me?