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

Nom/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?
13 Jan 2013 Some lonely Star Go for a VERY long walk, and at the end, when you decide to get something to eat, introduce yourself to the librarian as Mouchette.
08 Dec 2012 Dead-ED life is a paradoxical dichotomy wrapped in an enigma.
13 Aug 2012 Dead-Ed I do enjoy reading the pages of people offering their help. it reminds me that doing good or at least trying to is something that still goes on in the world. it makes me want to at least try to be a decent person to those who really need a boot sole imprint on their face.
06 Jul 2012 matthew I dont know that there is a best way to kill yourself at any age. It seems that the sooner you die, the sooner you have to just start over. Now, if one could simply slip into total non-existence... that would be liberating. Other than that it's either, continue re-incarnating on into eternity, or find some way to escape the binds of 3d existence.
21 Apr 2012 that guy. a suicide kit should include the following:
a box with writing on it that says "your last meal."
broken glass shards should fill the box.
a card that says "your name here, welcome to the rest of your life. enjoy your last meal."
now chew your food well for easy digestion and wait to die.
24 Jan 2012 DearlyBeloved I wanted to say the only reason I am still amongst the living today is this site. Or more specifically two very specials demons of mine... Billythefreak and Enzyme are the ones I seek out when I think about chewing on a powercord or running in the highway. Many thanks! You each earned a virtual cookie and pixy stix (you get one too mouchette!)
19 Jan 2012 Claudia persuade your parents to release your for adoption. then you get a new name and kill your older self
13 Jan 2012 Poet Devil

A Devil stopped by today
And promising relief
Offered to buy my soul
Na, not today I said
Still got another bottle of booze
And some lovely pills

But perhaps when they run out
Or when I get bored
We’ll make a deal
22 Dec 2011 Lotus Mouchette I love your website so very much. When I come here depressed and ready to die, all these posts never fail to cheer me up. Tell me, what does that say about me? That a suicide kit keeps me from suicide.
26 Oct 2011 E I'D RATHER SULK IN MY MISERY THAN BE IN OBLIVION FOREVER!
20 Oct 2011 zane could it be possible that those that were for suicide and those that were against found this site while both thinking of committing suicide? kind of ironic.
28 Feb 2011 roya participate in Mouchette
11 Feb 2011   Maybe to stop crying you could boil some water and make ginger tea. It will mix with your tears and cure your mucus festered throat.
17 Jan 2011 Billy the freak Death on the Wind

People kill things everyday
From love to idle time
And somethings die anyway
From life to idle time

It couldn't really hurt to die
No more than it hurts to live
The people left always cry
When there is nothing left to give

Death is just the final sleep
From dust to dirt we go
In little piles, that dirt we sweep
And the wind outsid e still blows

The wind kills time itself
It eats away this earth
Everything once known as wealth
The wind will turn to dirt

To know death is to know the wind
That whispers through the trees
For death is just another friend
Blowing on the breeze

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writtenin2009by
matthewmclean
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billy the freak
08 Jan 2011 Noname Slit your wrists and laugh
07 Nov 2010 friendly circle band aid old thinking haunts new syllables
11 Oct 2010 Enzyme My dear, lilting, eviscerated, death-rabbits…

Too long have we been apart. Yes, it is indeed I, Enzyme. Back with hands of fire. Back to stir the cauldron of woe.

Mouchette! My lovable lil’ antichrist! Let me kiss your pale, evil feet.

Today we shall cross the river styx and look at that pernicious vortex: “Loneliness”.

It is a cry many of you adorable death-rabbits espouse. I know. I know what it’s like. You sit on the bus, a gargantuan, plastic maggot carting you to and from work. Or maybe in your car. Or maybe on foot. The transitions of life are the most wretched for the lonely peon. It’s the going to and from. When life grinds you down to the knuckle. That’s when loneliness cracks your skull and pours her syphilitic powder into your cerebral cortex. You think… “Wasted time. Who could ever want me? I’m too complex to love or understand. Look at these worn faces. They’re avoiding my gaze. I could spit up blood in front of them, speak in tongues, summon Achilles and they wouldn’t bat an eye. Nothing changes. Nothing ever, fucking, changes.”

Perhaps once you weren’t lonely. You cast your spirit back there. To that basement in Brooklyn. That skinned wheat-field. That wide, acrid beach. Existence seemed endless then. Full of rare, ratified adventures. And now?

I know, little mice. I know. But what IS this thing called ‘loneliness’? We use it freely to describe our maudlin state… but what does it truly imply? To be lonely means you don’t like being alone. But that’s not true, is it? Like all good creatures of darkness, I’m sure we all love our lairs, no matter how pathetic and venial. Ahhh the late hours of the night, up in my tower, playing David Bowie, watching “Twin Peaks”, reading 19th century French literature. I’m at peace. In my smoking jacket. Eating s’mores. You all love your solo time, am I right? That’s why God created Mozart and masturbation. Great combo, by the way.

So if being lonely is not really about hating to be alone, what, pray tell, is it about? Perhaps it is a need to be WITH another human being? To talk and converse, to suck on their genitals, to hold them and cry. Yes? Maybe THAT’s what we want? More people.

But let’s be honest, my little zombie tap-dancers… you don’t really LIKE most people, do you? I mean, most humans are rather boorish, dull, witless, and uptight. I mean, if MOST of the population was teleported into your cage and demanded to be your constant companion you would cringe in horror. “You??? In my lair? Messing with my collection of Zap comix? Get thee gone!”

Alright, so maybe being lonely is about wanting to be with the RIGHT person. The right person… who would that be? Well… unkempt hair… and yes, a love of film noir. Weird teeth… and a rye, pithy sense of humor… adventurous… simultaneously hi-brow and low-brow… a fascination with evil… but a tender, romantic creature at heart with a love of Cole Porter, punk rock, and good white wine. My god… it’s me! Yes, you probably crave yourself, as an attractive member of whatever sex you wanna put it to.

But wait! You already have yourself… not as another person, true… but you do have what you want. As you. And maybe if you squint your eyes in the mirror, you’re not really all THAT hideous.
So WHY do we crave another human being to love who is basically ourselves but more attractive?
The answer, little death-rabbits, is obvious.

We want to fully appreciate who we are… we want to fuck ourselves, and adore ourselves, and vindicate our misery, and lovingly molest that beautiful, perfect, innocent creature we are… somewhere deep in the recesses of our being… and say: “I love you, for the fucked up, adorable miscreant you are. I hate the monsters who did you wrong. I forgive you for your suffering. I’m on your side. You’re not alone.”

So loneliness is really the desire to truly love ourselves. And forgive ourselves. And really…. You don’t need to go through the awkward hell of internet dating to do that.

Free severed angel hands for everyone!

Love,
Enzyme of the petrified forest.
03 Oct 2010   you are on top of a tall building basking in the light of a beautiful spring morning. birds chirp peacefully along with the horns of angry cars down below in the busy streets. you are getting a little hot in your inflatable pig costume, and a little weighed down from the pounds of chocolate, candy, money and confetti you have filled it with. you sit on the ledge while you slowly down a bottle of jagermeister. you enjoy the view, the last morning you will ever see. as the streets become busier, this is your time. blow kisses to the horizon. take a bow. breathe in. breathe out. and fall. in an explosion of plastic, candy, money and limbs. there are screams. but someone picks up a snickers and says, "god i was dying for one of these all morning."
21 Sep 2010 juniata tahw did uoy od htiw ym luos?
18 Sep 2010 the blue juniata I thguoht ni eht ytiugibma fo eht bew I dluoc ebb enoemos, tub uoy evah edam em a ekoj. Uoy evah nekat neve taht yawa morf em. Eht eulb atainuj

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