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?
22 Jul 2017 Kat What is a pedophiles favorite thing about halloween?
The free delivery!
02 Feb 2016 Dr. Phil See a psychiatrist.
19 Nov 2011 shameful Delicate line between heaven and earth…
The calm of the ages,
all the world’s worth.
Such minuscule measure,
while we think it so grand…
Just five specks of smallness,
This soft quiet land.
So frail and so fleeting,
in the end you will see
Simple dreams were Horatio’s philosophy.

For all the truth,
all creation,
all secrets of yore
Can be told in an instant,
by then they’re no more.

Ah, The Unexplainable
All worries unsettled,
heartache unresolved…
All questions unanswered,
with death, shall be solved.

We already teeter,
this sheer cliff so high.
When we fall to corruption,
insecurities die.

To end is to start;
to surrender is to know.

Despair and depression,
together they grow.
Hope shall meet hopeless
when there’s nowhere to go.

Misao Fujimura
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.
19 Jul 2010   go into pedophile house naked and then shout for help.
22 Mar 2010 Andre I am 21 and the thought of killing myself enters my mind everyday as I can't seem to find a job, I am near homeless because I will not accept help from my parents... even tho my parents love for me has been the only thing keeping me alive. I have gone from suicidal to loving life so much I thought I was crazy for thinking of suicide and now back to suicidal again. It is these extreme thoughts that make us so quick to commit suicide when really life is a roller coaster you must ride to reach the end. Anyone reading this please think about your family, think about your friends, and think about what your life could be before you commit. It can be tough for anyone, rich, poor, healthy, unhealthy but understand life can change for better at any given moment. I am far from religious but I do believe there is a plan for all of us and suicide is not it. It may be hard, and may sound cliche but just try to think of everything as a positive reflection on your life. This philosophy got me thru jail.... Everything that happens in life good or bad is motivation to make you a better human being. Jail made me so motivated that when I got out I did everything I could to make my life better. We do not live in paradise, and life is hard but use that as motivation to be the best human you can be, before you end your chances to better yourself and the people you love.
19 Nov 2009 Enzyme My dear darlin’ death-rabbits…

Enzyme, captain of the rotting multitude is back. So much mercury-tainted misery on the forums these days… my poor maudlin angels! Your wings all torn off, soggy with blood and bile… Come into the fold… into the copse of pine trees. I’ll heal the maelstrom in your cerebral cortex… Stand tall little death rabbits… all is not lost.

First off. One towering lament I hear again and again is that no one loves you, lil mouse. No one cares. No one really understands your delicate brainpan’s electric vibrations. You are wretched, ugly, foul and besmirched. Yes? Who will ever hold you to their neck and coo? Who will stroke your greasy hair and whisper soothing words down your raw throat? Who will cook your pancakes in the morning? Who will flip the record over? Who will lick your temples and cradle you in eternal warmth and silver salvation?

But I ask you. What is the true nature of this ‘love’ you crave? Love. Our society has anointed this elusive and brief emotion to the throne of absolute human achievement. More than just a human ‘experience’ we’ve turned it into the “philosopher’s stone”. The rare ingredient that alchemists used to turn base metals into gold. The solution and balm to all our clawing torments. If you just get ‘love’ you’ll be all better. Free from all woe. At peace. Complete spiritual enlightenment. Complete joy and freedom. Those who have it are ascended deities. Immortals living the epic saga you never could. They stare down at us lonely peons, codgers, reprobates, losers, and vagabonds. That’s how it seems, yes? You’re a blip on the radar. You exist not, because no one cares if you live or die. Yes?

But you are wrong, my adorable little persimmon. Dead wrong. This world we live in is but one shade of the entire story. Deep within your migrating being is another, golden universe of the dawn. The universe of your velvet soul, your chattering life force, the cathedral of your emotions, call it what you will. Your consciousness. And this consciousness IS the audience you crave for your life. You really don’t need the love, approval, understanding of another being to be happy and content. Some of the happiest people on earth live in total isolation in Tibet on the tops of snow-covered mountains milking goats. Sure, love, sex and approval from other humans are NICE and fun to have around, and kinda good for us. But they are not what truly sustains us. No one will ever love you more than your own being.

Close your eyes and listen to your life force trembling and pulsating inside you. A radiating harmonium of thoughts and words and beats and dreams and images and demons and nymphs and monsters all part of you. All created by you. That glow, that universe, that place adores you, lil rabbit. Like no one else ever can. Because you sustain it. Because it is completely original. It has never existed in your distinct pattern before, and will never exist ever again. Think about it. No one exactly like you has ever existed before in the history of the universe, nor will ever exist again. You are so damn rare. If you tend to that inner world by creating things, breathing, escaping, imagining, lollygagging in your unconscious, you’ll get all the love you need. And much more.

See, we’ve all been sold a bill of goods. Our social contract is hopelessly pernicious. From everywhere were are bombarded with constant tirades: “Be loved! Get happy! Get laid! Make money! Find friends! Look pretty! Have children! Be a success! If you can’t, won’t, or live with your mom, you’re a failure! Kill yourself! Give up! Life is a game! You lost! Game over!”

Take a breath, lil mouse. Remind yourself. Life is NOT a game. There is no winning or loosing. Only the passage of time and the accumulation of experience. That’s it. And all experiences are worth having. Good, bad, pathetic, tender. It’s all part of the human rollercoaster ride. Take your fingers off your eyes. You don’t want to miss a thing.

And always remember. Enzyme loves you. Even if no one else does. I do. I’ll enfold you in my poison arms, coo in your ear, give you head, lick your teeth, knit you mittens, braid your greasy hair, draw on your hand, crash your car, kiss the nape of your neck, put on Nick Drake, film you while you sleep, smell your armpits, clean your bathroom, let you doze off, cradle your breasts, eat your food, buy you candy, watch 30 rock with you, clap when you play air guitar, wrap you in a down comforter while it softly snows outside, rent your favorite horror film, and mull you hot apple cider. I will. You know why? Cuz I love my lil velveteen death rabbits. That’s why. Yes. Yes I do.

ENZYME

Song of the day: “Rock & Roll Suicide” by David Bowie.
12 Jul 2009 M.M. aka billy the freak independence day has come and gone blown past like the ribbons in your bottle rockets. the wind catches them and they sweep across children's feet. when i was young i believed the united states was the beacon for the free world. in the past few years, through underground documentaries, the internet, and good old study i have become illuminated. lights on. and the truth is so far away the american dream. no more eating hallucinogenic mushrooms tripping out to fireworks basking in the mellow ambiance of pride, subliminal whispers spoon feeding you comfort. obey and consume. the united states is the bulldog for the shadow government, the new world order.

Reason obeys itself; and ignorance submits to whatever is dictated to it.
-Quoted by Thomas Paine-

what if i told you a handful of people control the world and humanity. just a few dirtbags with all the power and money. the corporate elite, international bankers, media companies, and even royalty. these power brokers play with peoples lives like they play a game of chess. bent on the thought of being one of the ruling class in a one world government.

what? you didn't know about them. this is sadly typical especially if you live in the united states. they control the media and what is presented to us as fact. they create the enemy. they use false flag attacks and scare tactics to frightening us into our homes and pissing us off to where we want to see the end of these 'terrorist', blood, death and destruction. we see so much tragedy. they see conquest. nazi protocols keep us in line. they use television, newspapers, and radio to tell us what to think, at the same time they are above any existing law using the current government as a tool to bring us down. the patriot act and laws during wartime. simple puppets in place to sooth the ignorant. they want to control our minds. they want to make us cattle. and when the time is right there will be death. a horrible black death it will consume the weak. we will evolve by necessity.

you know this sounds right we are moving into a new age, the age of aquarius and let the water bearer wash away our sins.

i don't know if i got my point across. and this is real and there is so much more. check out infowars.com and zeitgeistmovie.com this will be a good place to start. it is up to you to see the light and all their ugly faces. you don't need to kill yourself we're doomed anyway.

i must have dreamed a thousand dreams
been haunted by a million screams
but I can hear the marching feet
they're moving into the street.
now did you read the news today
they say the dangers gone away
but I can see the fires still alight
there burning into the night.

there's too many men
too many people
making too many problems
and not much love to go round
can't you see
this is a land of confusion.

this is the world we live in
and these are the hands were given
use them and lets start trying
to make it a place worth living in.

oh superman where are you now
when everythings gone wrong somehow
the men of steel, the men of power
are losing control by the hour.
i won't be coming home tonight
my generation will put it right
were not just making promises
that we know, well never keep.

this is the world we live in
and these are the names were given
stand up and lets start showing
just where our lives are going to.

this is the time this is the place
So we look for the future
but there's not much love to go round
tell me why, this is a land of confusion.

-phil collins-

billy the freak
01 Jul 2009 billy the royal court magician one of the first rock stars and sex symbols of medieval times was merlin the royal court magician who supposedly lived in the times of king author and sir lancelot putting the year somewhere in the 1100's. it was said that merlin had the power to disappear and reappear at will. he could shape shift and summon demons,dragons, and beast of all shapes and size. by some he was described as a handsome dark haired man who dressed in the fanciest of garbs. you could imagine how young men would want to emulate such a prolific man and how women would cream in their panties. by others he was described as a hunchback ugly man who would steal your child for for the unspeakable acts of his wizardry. unlike the king and the good sir whose stories have been romanticized to the point of fairytales merlin the man may have never existed. real or not real in his day Merlin's' exploits were the talk of every village far and wide. even now his name appears in many aspects of pop culture. he is a snapshot of everything and nothing folded up in a book on your shelf.
alchemy* at the time was considered to be the same as magic, because the men who practiced the craft kept its secrets well guarded, mainly for profit, but i suspect they got of on the mystery and allure surrounding the subject. to this day any respectable magician will not give away his secrets. like then and like now there is no such thing as magic. today the word magician is used at kiddie parties and retirement communities, go figure, the term now is illusionist. as if to say to believe in magic is to believe in witchcraft, you dance with the devil.
one of merlins most infamous illusions were before the eyes of his king he turned lead int gold.now think about what he made them believe he could do.he took one of the most abundant metals and turned it into the most precious metal on earth. so needless to say this made merlin the mother fucking the man. this also sent the other alchemist into a frenzy trying to recreate the miracle that was nothing more than a parlor trick, and to this day people still use the phrase 'trying to turn lead into gold' when describing the impossible. now i have never turned lead into gold, but i have turned bread into mold and with that i may have done more than old merlin ever has.
an illusion is merely an act of deception and the magic is in the minds and on the faces of the sucker. i am the wizard of my domain everyday and in anyway i will deceive whoever i can to get what i want. i disappear when things get heavy and i reappear at the most opportune moment. i can morph my appearance and my demeanor to fit into any crowd. i summon beast with the flick of my cell phone fury and they swoop in and destroy my enemies. by the light of day i am a handsome man on the cutting edge of fashion all the ladies want me and all the guys want to be me. in the street lights and shadows i'm mr. hyde hideous and livid. i am on the tip of every tongue, yet no one knows me. i am the modern day magician. i am the full metal alchemist. i am your drug dealer.





*alchemy/noun/ a medieval chemical science and speculative philosophy aiming to achieve the transmutation of base elements into gold, the discovery of a cure for any ailments, prolonging life, and human transmutation.

billy the freak
18 Jun 2009 the dark turd ummm... well there are manhy ways to kill youself. first is self pity. then with irony. did you know you can kill yourself with kindness. hah. get it? kill yourself with kindness. ahh.. never mind. by the way (get it bi the way) is there still a bloke(heh) called Phill on this sight. good on ya mate. can i kiss you. i mean, not in a gay way or anything. just a man kiss, ya know.
aka, the dark turd
26 May 2009 M.M. a.k.a. billy the freak amsterdam heaves like the breath in her lungs. people bustle through the streets as
the blood surges through her veins. i can feel this all around me.... however, i sit
alone in the a bar. I want to be alone, only me and the bartender. hey, did you know
i have the power to be anybody? i can go anywhere and do anything, any-fucking-way i
want to do it. However, tonight I sit alone. i sit in a basement level dive too dark
to see the clock on the wall, yet bright enough to see the bar in front of me. the
pink neon light in the window screamed in its best cursive 'MOUCHETTE' a warm and
ambient glow enveloping you like a womb welcoming all to her embrace. however,
tonight i sit alone.
The bartender is mouchette and i am only a guest in her place. like me she has the
power to be anything, but only in the minds of other people. if you were to ask her
who she was("mouchette, really who are you?")she would say she killed herself at the
brink of thirteen and in death had second thoughts. now she plays a game and through
this game she lives on. tonight mouchette is a thirty something italian woman with
the type of beauty that says you would like to fuck her, but wouldn't really perform
at your best only because you are intimidated by her razor sharp wit and her worldly
charm.. She has so many friends and you never feel good enough in her company. the
intimate encounters are few and far between and you both want more. when you are
away she is always in the back of your mind. i know all this and tonight she is only
the bartender, why she is in this spittoon of a saloon could only be guessed, but i
do know she is here... aways here for me.
"mouchette! baby doll, please pour me another." i belted.
"billy darling no need to shout; i am right here and there is no one else in the
bar." she said in a reprimanding tone."another vodka and tonic i would bet."
"right you are. you know me well."
"i know you because you know you, you know me and right now... this is all we know."
"positively insightful mouchette, I say you inspire me. you are my muse." this i
announced with a certain amount of glee.
"billy" she said while fixing my drink. "I am afraid the booze is your muse.." She
sat the drink down in front of me.
I was outraged. "mouchette, you... how could you say this? do you want to hurt me?
do you want me to feel bad?"
"again billy, this is all we know. I think you must ask yourself that question."
{what is her angle? what is she getting at? i want her to go with the flow.} i took
the drink in one gulp then slammed the heavy short glass motioning for another
drink, nectar of the gods.
" vodka and tonic yes?"
"ha!! i would like a whiskey and coke, if you put pepsi in there i will fucking
smack you." i said triumphantly "you are slipping mouchette... maybe you are not my
muse"
"the joke is on you billy." she said in a tired voice and made the drink in the same
dirty glass.
{the joke was on me. i hate whiskey. what is this? do i have control? yes, i have
all the control. when i am here i am king and she is the servant. So why do i feel
so helpless.} the neon light from out side the bar shined through my half empty
short glass, casting glimmers of light onto the slick bar top. the lights danced
across the fine finished wood as i turned the glass between my thumb and index
finger. suddenly i felt alone. no longer alone by choice, but alone... just
helplessly alone.
"well billy, I'm here" falicia said out of nowhere.
"how did you get here." I asked.
"you let me in silly, what kind of question is that." now i am simply sick of this
shit.
"are you going to fuck with me too falicia!" i shot the whiskey and the fumes and
words came out my mouth like fire. "i don't know how you got here. i don't know why
you keep coming back. i didn't open that fucking door."
"i found the door and walked through it just like you did billy, ask yourself these
questions and you will find the answers you are looking for." falicia ordered a
mineral water and drank while i thought about what she said.
i first came here when i was sixteen it was 1998 ten years passed and now i am
twenty six. i didn't give anything, i only took for one decade. she was always here
when i needed her and at times she made me feel special, at times she made me feel
worthless. I would run away but only in presence. in the stealth of the night i
would visit. the price i pay is her always haunting me, for not a day goes by... not
a day goes by. did i want a suicide kit for christmas? no, i just wanted to show
other children how to play with the toy. i am no longer a child, but i still play
with this toy.
"falicia i come here because as long as people come here i cannot die.... i will
live forever. this is the gift she gave me and i tell you, i don't know if i deserve
it." just when i thought i was opening up falicia started to laugh a hysterical
laugh. then lucy and phil join in. chris and will snow chime and it now a chorus of
laughter. joe lee, mackellar, elaine, agent orange, just a girl, and many others
have the bar quaking with laughter. in spite of myself i start to chuckle as well,
but i had to ask.
"falicia why are we laughing."
"you wanting to live forever is all fine and good," she said as she points across
the bar with her finger resting towards the bartender. "but what happens when she
dies."
that very moment i had ad a revelation and with that change a change happened in
mouchette. her cigarette burn eyes stared at me as she poured me another vodka and
tonic, her smile was just crack on her plastic face
23 May 2009 M.M. a.k.a.billy the freak the city heaves like the breath in her lungs. people bustle through the streets as the blood surges through her veins. i can feel this all around me... however, i sit alone in her bar. I want to be alone, only me and the bartender.
{hey, did you know i have the power to be anybody? i can go anywhere. yep. i can do anything, any-fucking-way i want to do it. however, tonight I sit alone. i sit in a basement level dive too dark to see the clock on the wall, yet bright enough to see the bar in front of me like a high definition painting in a cheap plastic frame. the pink neon light in the window screamed in its best cursive 'MOUCHETTE' a warm and ambient glow enveloping you like a womb welcoming all to her embrace. however, tonight i sit alone.
the bartender is mouchette and i am only a guest in her place. like me she has the power to be anything, but only in the minds of other people. if you were to ask her who she was, she would say she killed herself at the brink of thirteen and in death had second thoughts. not that she didn't want to kill herself, but wanted to know the best way to do it. now she plays a game and through this game she lives on.
tonight mouchette is a thirty something woman with the type of beauty that says you would like to love her, but wouldn't really be at your best only because you are intimidated by her razor sharp wit and her worldly charm... she has so many friends and you never feel good enough in her company. the intimate encounters are few and far between and you both want more. when you are away she is always in the back of your mind. i know all this and tonight she is only the bartender, why she is in this spittoon of a saloon could only be guessed, but i do know she is here... always here for me.
"mouchette! baby doll, please pour me another" i belted.
"billy, darling, no need to shout; i am right here and there is no one else in the bar" she said in a reprimanding tone", " another vodka and tonic i would bet?"
"right you are. you know me well "i said.
"i know you because you know you, you know me and right now... this is all we know" she replied.
"positively insightful mouchette, I say you inspire me. you are my muse." this i announced with a certain amount of glee, but not really understanding what she said. it sounded good enough.
"billy" she said while fixing my drink. "I am afraid the booze is your muse." she sat the drink down in front of me. she is speaking gobbity gook and suggesting i was an alcoholic. I was outraged.
"mouchette, you... how could you say this? do you want to hurt me? do you want me to feel bad?"
"again billy, this is all we know. I think you must ask yourself that question." she said again putting it back on me.
{what is her angle? what is she getting at? i want her to go with the flow.}
i took the drink in one gulp then slammed the heavy short glass motioning for another drink, nectar of the gods.
" vodka and tonic yes?" she called from across the bar.
"ha!! i would like a whiskey and coke, if you put pepsi in there i will fucking smack you." i said triumphantly. "you are slipping mouchette... maybe you are not my muse maybe this is just a joke."
"the joke is on you billy." she said in a tired voice and made the drink in the same dirty glass.
{and the joke was on me. i hate whiskey. in an attempt to be belligerent i asked for something i didn't want. what is this? do i have control? yes, i have all the control. when i am here i am king and she is the servant. So why do i feel so helpless.}
the neon light from out side the bar shined through my half empty short glass, casting glimmers of light onto the slick bar top. the lights danced across the fine finished wood as i turned the glass between my thumb and index finger. suddenly i felt alone. no longer alone by choice, but alone... just helplessly alone.
"well billy, I'm here" felicia said out of nowhere.
"how did you get here." I asked.
"you let me in silly, what kind of question is that?" was the condescending reply.
now i am simply sick of this shit.
"are you going to fuck with me too felicia!" i shot the whiskey down my throat and the words and fumes came out my mouth like fire.
"i don't know how you got here. i don't know why you keep coming back. i didn't open that fucking door you waltzed in here yourdamnself."
"billy right now you want me here. i found the door and walked through it just like you did. billy, ask yourself these questions and you will find the answers you are looking for". felicia ordered a mineral water and drank while i thought about what she said.
i first came here when i was sixteen it was 1998 ten years passed and now i am twenty six. i found this place when i was contemplating suicide. we all know i'm no strait lacer who tied up his shoes to awalk on the wild side. i never gave anything too much, and got so much in return. she was always here when i needed her. at times she made me feel special, at times she couldn't have made me feel more worthless. I would run away, but only in presence and in the stealth of the night i would visit. the price i pay is her always haunting me, for not a day goes by... not a day goes by. did i want a suicide kit for christmas? not really, i just wanted to show other children how to play with the toy. i am no longer a child, but i still play with this toy. i'll still show to get the max amount fun even if you just watch the other children. something eternal made fameous by the hands of its creator. that's it.
"felicia i come here because, as long as people come here i cannot die... i will live forever. this is the gift she gave me and i tell you, i don't know if i deserve it". just when i thought i was opening up felicia started to laugh a hysterical laugh. then lucy and phil joined in. chris and will snow chime in and it is now a chorus of laughter. joe lee, mackellar, elaine, odd orange, dead inside, just a girl, and many others have the bar quaking with laughter. in spite of myself i start to chuckle as well, but i had to ask.
"felicia why are we laughing?"
"although it sounds like an oxymoron in the most basic sense, you wanting to live forever is all fine and good" she said as she points across the bar with her finger resting towards the bartender "but what happens when she dies?"
that very moment i had a revelation and with that change in my mind a change happened in mouchette. her cigarette burned eyes stared at me as she poured me another vodka and tonic, her smile was just crack on her plastic face.

billy the freak
07 Mar 2009 Loki You kids need to realize that suicide is one of the most selfish things a human being can do. If you believe in the christian heaven and hell, you should check out dante's dream about hell in his book "inferno", and see where he meets "the suicides" and then see how that corrollates with the christian bible on what happens to those who destroy god's temple in self-righteousness, disowning the laws of both man and god. As an atheist, it took more than that for me, but for you tweens (no disrespect), that might be enough to reconsider. I've tried twice, and vowed to do it the right way the next time, but even the dark side of me is repulsed by the creator of this page and the people who claim to be adults giving advice to thirteen-year-olds on the right way. Fucking sick. Your feelings are very real and very important and even though it seems nobody cares or understands, somebody does. Try me. And for you fucking sick pedophilic sadistic chickenhawks with the advice... You can try me, too.
07 Jan 2009   Man, I'm torn here...I can understand both points of view. I'm in my 30's...I first contemplated suicide at 13...only later did my mom tell me I was abused by a neighborhood kid and by a babysitter. I've tried sex, drugs, alcohol, God, Buddha, philosophy, prescription medication, counseling...nothing has worked. I've held on over 20 years thinking things can get better, but they haven't...when people tell you how others have it worse, that is really patronizing and does NOT help. All that does is invalidate your feelings and make you feel like an even bigger loser. However, someone commented earlier that it seems like all it could take is just one person to love them and I agree. But how long do you hafta drag yourself out of bed EVERY SINGLE DAY before you can say that you honestly tried. It's true...a lotta people have no clue what it's like to be a punching bag your entire life, so it's easy to sound like a Hallmark card (hang in there, things will get better,...). All of that said, I made up my mind (or do day to day) that if I can't live for myself, maybe I can help others...sounds cheesy, but maybe living for others can bring some small measure of happiness...
13 Nov 2008 Van I am like most people in this forum, I have had my ups and downs, and heartache and such due to family problems, conflicts with roommates, school pressures and so forth. I've never really tried to kill myself purposefully. I did fool myself into believing that four extra strength acetaminophen's worked like four regular acetaminophen's. My friend told me that taking four was normal, but I always use extra strength and didn't know there was a difference. I was knocked out for about a day. Parents were fighting, getting me into the argument, all I could think to do was take some acetaminophen and go to sleep. It was New Years day during my senior year of high school, the next day I felt foolish. I went to a private school, learning about theology and loving religion. That's one thing that held me back so that I could never kill or injure myself. The first time I almost committed suicide was stupid. I was 15, dating a guy for half a year, then one day he breaks my heart, my first love. Two weeks later I'm crying on the bus and my best friend from when I was 11 tells me "Get over it bitch!". What great friends... In the end I found she liked him and only urged me to date him so that she then could date him once it didn't work out between him and I. She did, that night I was on AIM talking to a deeply religious friend. And I had a large cooking knife at my wrist about ready to watch all my blood flow out. But I couldn't do it. I went back and told this to my friend and he then said, "you're conscience/a spirit [God] is preventing you from doing this to yourself". At that time I felt relieved I couldn't do something so horrific to damage what makes me human. As time went on over the years, I've always had suicidal thoughts. It all really came into perspective when I was 14 and my grandfather passed away. I've heard from someone or maybe a philosopher, that the only reason some people have suicidal thoughts is because someone close or a relative had committed suicide. It runs in the genes or the thought process more clearly then. I'm not a deeply religious person, but I do believe that once you die, you die. I used to believe in reincarnation, but science proves me wrong. If you want to die, then do so, but before you do the deed remember what makes you human and who it really will hurt in the end. Suicidal thoughts are normal, I still have them, but it doesn't mean I will act upon them.
11 Nov 2008 Liz Monroe This is no suicide rave. i'm not suicidal, REALLY. it's just a pointless vent by an angsty philosophical 17 year old in an odd situation...

Well, my baby's gone. It's been a year since our first kiss- our first "more than friends" moment. it's been 6 moths since i first realised how much i loved him. 4 months since I first fucked him. and 2 months since we made it official. slow paced, huh?
And now my babys gone to the far ends of asia with his best friend and lead guitarist. "see you in a month" he told me halloween (night of his departure). I didn't believe him. I have 2 & half weeks till his supposed arrival back to melbourne. Time coulnd't be going slower, and yet i feel as though i'll never speak to him again, unless it's to say goodbye. Strange world we live in. I've always said: if there is a god, he really has a fucked up sense of humour. I should have been born earlier. 1941, preferably. anytime then on in. I should have been a baby boomer: teenager of the 50's, 60's, 70's, 80's, or 90's. Life would have been a hell of alot easier then. I can't describe it, and you can't understand it unless you've met me. SO take my word on it. And i missed generation X by a butt hair! thanks, man. timming's never been my best point, always too late. I can hear god laughing at me when he pulls something like that. Crazy kidder.
And, y'know, I remember my #1 fella tellin' me (or attempting to tell me) his feelings. How he thought i was perfect, how he thought we could never be. He was right. I love him, and i've waited my whole life to say those words to someone. And i'm not saying it's something it's not. I don't expect to marry the guy, or to have his kids and live together forever. I'm not asking him to pull some big 'sleepless in seattle' gesture- scream my name from the top of a building, send me 100 roses for valentines. Hell, I didn't even believe in teenage love before him. The truth is: he has an entire life of his own, with a whole bunch of people that just arn't me. His got his quirky fashion and bizzar industrial metal and his ultra-futuristic ways. I have me rockabilly, my creepers, my nostalgia and my smoking, drinking, riot grrl existance. I just don't fit into his life. He has no room for me, and truth be told I doubt it's effect him if i were to dissapear. It'd bug him to see me with another guy, but for me to just go? nah.
And it hurts, and i'm lonely. Dude, you've gotta listen to the lyrics of Gary Numan's "are friends electric?" to get it. hehe, he kinda looks like Gary Numan.
I try to distance myself. When we're together it's a rule never to show any true emotions. We're both too cool for that, or atleast we act it. He can be so warm, and then so cold. And me, i'd just rather turn him on and not get my hopes up for anything. He'll break my heart, men always do. I'm no fool, i've seen it happen. I wish I could say he's different, but i'm not sure of that yet. When he's there and i'm here, and I expect him to cheat on me and he probably thinks the same. We can't go on together with suspicious minds, hehe. The truth: sometimes i think his too good for me. All the girls want him, to be honest i'm not sure what they see in him. I'm not sure what i see in him. But whatever it is it's something they can't see. And all the boys want me. I think it upsets him, he doesn't know how repulsed those other men make me. But like I said, I just don't fit into his life. I don't match his outfit. And it hurts, because I want him so bad. I want him to come back from hong kong. I want to be waiting at the airport for him. And i secretly want him to marry me and give me the happy ever after ending i never really thought i'd get. I wish we could drop the act just for a few minutes, and I wish he would tell me what he really thoght of me. And i wish i could drop my guard and tell him. We havn't even sad we loved eachother. It's just how we are.
But i see his pictures of his adventures throughout chine: hair dyed green, smiling that smile, being that quirky self that only he can pull off. He looks so happy, i don't think i've ever seen him that happy, not even with me. I'm not sure if i make him truly happy. he makes me happy. I've never told him. But he looks like he fits over there. I'm envious, i've wanted all my life to get out of australia and 'fit'. I've wanted out of here, over to california, over to real people who get me. And his there in hong kong, looking the happiest and most content i've ever seen him. His just so happy there... without me. It hurts. I'm scared, and yet i'm smiling and god and his odd sense of humour. Fucker.
13 Oct 2008 crystal The Quest - by Wystan Hugh Auden

I. The Door

Out of it steps our future, through this door
Enigmas, executioners and rules,
Her Majesty in a bad temper or
A red-nosed Fool who makes a fool of fools.

Great persons eye it in the twilight for
A past it might so carelessly let in,
A widow with a missionary grin,
The foaming inundation at a roar.

We pile our all against it when afraid,
And beat upon its panels when we die:
By happening to be open once, it made

Enormous Alice see a wonderland
That waited for her in the sunshine and,
Simply by being tiny, made her cry.

II. The Preparations

All had been ordered weeks before the start
From the best firms at such work: instruments
To take the measure of all queer events,
And drugs to move the bowels or the heart.

A watch, of course, to watch impatience fly,
Lamps for the dark and shades against the sun;
Foreboding, too, insisted on a gun,
And coloured beads to soothe a savage eye.

In theory they were sound on Expectation,
Had there been situations to be in;
Unluckily they were their situation:

One should not give a poisoner medicine,
A conjurer fine apparatus, nor
A rifle to a melancholic bore.

III. The Crossroads

Two friends who met here and embraced are gone,
Each to his own mistake; one flashes on
To fame and ruin in a rowdy lie,
A village torpor holds the other one,
Some local wrong where it takes time to die:
This empty junction glitters in the sun.

So at all quays and crossroads: who can tell
These places of decision and farewell
To what dishonour all adventure leads,
What parting gift could give that friend protection,
So orientated his vocation needs
The Bad Lands and the sinister direction?

All landscapes and all weathers freeze with fear,
But none have ever thought, the legends say,
The time allowed made it impossible;
For even the most pessimistic set
The limit of their errors at a year.
What friends could there be left then to betray,
What joy take longer to atone for; yet
Who could complete without the extra day
The journey that should take no time at all?

IV. The Traveler

No window in his suburb lights that bedroom where
A little fever heard large afternoons at play:
His meadows multiply; that mill, though, is not there
Which went on grinding at the back of love all day.

Nor all his weeping ways through weary wastes have found
The castle where his Greater Hallows are interned;
For broken bridges halt him, and dark thickets round
Some ruin where an evil heritage was burned.

Could he forget a child's ambition to be old
And institutions where it learned to wash and lie,
He'd tell the truth for which he thinks himself too young,

That everywhere on his horizon, all the sky,
Is now, as always, only waiting to be told
To be his father's house and speak his mother tongue.

V. The City

In villages from which their childhoods came
Seeking Necessity, they had been taught
Necessity by nature is the same
No matter how or by whom it be sought.

The city, though, assumed no such belief,
But welcomed each as if he came alone,
The nature of Necessity like grief
Exactly corresponding to his own.

And offered them so many, every one
Found some temptation fit to govern him,
And settled down to master the whole craft

Of being nobody; sat in the sun
During the lunch-hour round the fountain rim,
And watched the country kids arrive, and laughed.

VI. The First Temptation

Ashamed to be the darling of his grief,
He joined a gang of rowdy stories where
His gift for magic quickly made him chief
Of all these boyish powers of the air;

Who turned his hungers into Roman food,
The town's asymmetry into a park;
All hours took taxis; any solitude
Became his flattered duchess in the dark.

But, if he wished for anything less grand,
The nights came padding after him like wild
Beasts that meant harm, and all the doors cried Thief;

And when Truth had met him and put out her hand,
He clung in panic to his tall belief
And shrank away like an ill-treated child.

VII. The Second Temptation

His library annoyed him with its look
Of calm belief in being really there;
He threw away a rival's boring book,
And clattered panting up the spiral stair.

Swaying upon the parapet he cried:
"O Uncreated Nothing, set me free,
Now let Thy perfect be identified,
Unending passion of the Night, with Thee."

And his long-suffering flesh, that all the time
Had felt the simple cravings of the stone
And hoped to be rewarded for her climb,

Took it to be a promise when he spoke
That now at last she would be left alone,
And plunged into the college quad, and broke.

VIII. The Third Temptation

He watched with all his organs of concern
How princes walk, what wives and children say,
Re-opened old graves in his heart to learn
What laws the dead had died to disobey,

And came reluctantly to his conclusion:
"All the arm-chair philosophies are false;
To love another adds to the confusion;
The song of mercy is the Devil's Waltz."

All that he put his hand to prospered so
That soon he was the very King of creatures,
Yet, in an autumn nightmare trembled, for,

Approaching down a ruined corridor,
Strode someone with his own distorted features
Who wept, and grew enormous, and cried Woe.

IX. The Tower

This is an architecture for the old;
Thus heaven was attacked by the afraid,
So once, unconsciously, a virgin made
Her maidenhead conspicuous to a god.

Here on dark nights while worlds of triumph sleep
Lost Love in abstract speculation burns,
And exiled Will to politics returns
In epic verse that makes its traitors weep.

Yet many come to wish their tower a well;
For those who dread to drown, of thirst may die,
Those who see all become invisible:

Here great magicians, caught in their own spell,
Long for a natural climate as they sigh
"Beware of Magic" to the passer-by.

X. The Presumptuous

They noticed that virginity was needed
To trap the unicorn in every case,
But not that, of those virgins who succeeded,
A high percentage had an ugly face.

The hero was as daring as they thought him,
But his peculiar boyhood missed them all;
The angel of a broken leg had taught him
The right precautions to avoid a fall.

So in presumption they set forth alone
On what, for them, was not compulsory,
And stuck half-way to settle in some cave
With desert lions to domesticity,

Or turned aside to be absurdly brave,
And met the ogre and were turned to stone.

XI. The Average

His peasant parents killed themselves with toil
To let their darling leave a stingy soil
For any of those fine professions which
Encourage shallow breathing, and grow rich.

The pressure of their fond ambition made
Their shy and country-loving child afraid
No sensible career was good enough,
Only a hero could deserve such love.

So here he was without maps or supplies,
A hundred miles from any decent town;
The desert glared into his blood-shot eyes,
The silence roared displeasure:
looking down,
He saw the shadow of an Average Man
Attempting the exceptional, and ran.

XII. Vocation

Incredulous, he stared at the amused
Official writing down his name among
Those whose request to suffer was refused.

The pen ceased scratching: though he came too late
To join the martyrs, there was still a place
Among the tempters for a caustic tongue

To test the resolution of the young
With tales of the small failings of the great,
And shame the eager with ironic praise.

Though mirrors might be hateful for a while,
Women and books would teach his middle age
The fencing wit of an informal style,
To keep the silences at bay and cage
His pacing manias in a worldly smile.

XIII. The Useful

The over-logical fell for the witch
Whose argument converted him to stone,
Thieves rapidly absorbed the over-rich,
The over-popular went mad alone,
And kisses brutalised the over-male.

As agents their importance quickly ceased;
Yet, in proportion as they seemed to fail,
Their instrumental value was increased
For one predestined to attain their wish.

By standing stones the blind can feel their way,
Wild dogs compel the cowardly to fight,
Beggars assist the slow to travel light,
And even madmen manage to convey
Unwelcome truths in lonely gibberish.

XIV. The Way

Fresh addenda are published every day
To the encyclopedia of the Way,

Linguistic notes and scientific explanations,
And texts for schools with modernised spelling and illustrations.

Now everyone knows the hero must choose the old horse,
Abstain from liquor and sexual intercourse,

And look out for a stranded fish to be kind to:
Now everyone thinks he could find, had he a mind to,

The way through the waste to the chapel in the rock
For a vision of the Triple Rainbow or the Astral Clock,

Forgetting his information comes mostly from married men
Who liked fishing and a flutter on the horses now and then.

And how reliable can any truth be that is got
By observing oneself and then just inserting a Not?

XV. The Lucky

Suppose he'd listened to the erudite committee,
He would have only found where not to look;
Suppose his terrier when he whistled had obeyed,
It would not have unearthed the buried city;
Suppose he had dismissed the careless maid,
The cryptogram would not have fluttered from the book.

"It was not I," he cried as, healthy and astounded,
He stepped across a predecessor's skull;
"A nonsense jingle simply came into my head
And left the intellectual Sphinx dumbfounded;
I won the Queen because my hair was red;
The terrible adventure is a little dull."

Hence Failure's torment: "Was I doomed in any case,
Or would I not have failed had I believed in Grace?"

XVI. The Hero

He parried every question that they hurled:
"What did the Emperor tell you?" "Not to push."
"What is the greatest wonder of the world?"
"The bare man Nothing in the Beggar's Bush."

Some muttered: "He is cagey for effect.
A hero owes a duty to his fame.
He looks too like a grocer for respect."
Soon they slipped back into his Christian name.

The only difference that could be seen
From those who'd never risked their lives at all
Was his delight in details and routine:

For he was always glad to mow the grass,
Pour liquids from large bottles into small,
Or look at clouds through bits of coloured glass.

XVII. Adventure

Others had found it prudent to withdraw
Before official pressure was applied,
Embittered robbers outlawed by the Law,
Lepers in terror of the terrified.

But no one else accused these of a crime;
They did not look ill: old friends, overcome,
Stared as they rolled away from talk and time
Like marbles out into the blank and dumb.

The crowd clung all the closer to convention,
Sunshine and horses, for the sane know why
The even numbers should ignore the odd:

The Nameless is what no free people mention;
Successful men know better than to try
To see the face of their Absconded God.

XVIII. The Adventurers

Spinning upon their central thirst like tops,
They went the Negative Way towards the Dry;
By empty caves beneath an empty sky
They emptied out their memories like slops,

Which made a foul marsh as they dried to death,
Where monsters bred who forced them to forget
The lovelies their consent avoided; yet,
Still praising the Absurd with their last breath,

They seeded out into their miracles:
The images of each grotesque temptation
Became some painter's happiest inspiration,

And barren wives and burning virgins came
To drink the pure cold water of their wells,
And wish for beaux and children in their name.

XIX. The Waters

Poet, oracle, and wit
Like unsuccessful anglers by
The ponds of apperception sit,
Baiting with the wrong request
The vectors of their interest,
At nightfall tell the angler's lie.

With time in tempest everywhere,
To rafts of frail assumption cling
The saintly and the insincere;
Enraged phenomena bear down
In overwhelming waves to drown
Both sufferer and suffering.

The waters long to hear our question put
Which would release their longed-for answer, but.

XX. The Garden

Within these gates all opening begins:
White shouts and flickers through its green and red,
Where children play at seven earnest sins
And dogs believe their tall conditions dead.

Here adolescence into number breaks
The perfect circle time can draw on stone,
And flesh forgives division as it makes
Another's moment of consent its own.

All journeys die here: wish and weight are lifted:
Where often round some old maid's desolation
Roses have flung their glory like a cloak,

The gaunt and great, the famed for conversation
Blushed in the stare of evening as they spoke
And felt their centre of volition shifted.
01 Sep 2008 Troy Troy says

ok so u didn't like my last suggestion

i was on the wiki eariler today,and it says it
takes 1 and half weeks to strave to death,also
i believe it would be the most painfull way to
die,but the hardest to detect.

ok now for your information

i don't have problem getting poontang.

jeanine says:
im not wearing panties


so stfu u Pathetic single male,with no repertoire
whos ring hole looks like a crispy creme dount,i bet you own
a extra large pink didlo that says JOIN YMCA.

and u are not an artist,i think a elton john and a wiggles remix
would have more taste.no no cave art is.

stop licking toads and selling rocks ffs.(ffs=for fucks sake)

and if this a female im talking too,Presumably Mouchette,from
Amsterdam,nearly 13 years old,TAKE YOUR FUCKING PROZAC ON TOAST
U SUICIDAL BITCH,AND BRUSH YOUR TEETH COS I SMELL CAWK ON
YOUR BREATH.AND I HOPE YOUR DAD GOES OUTSIDE AND SCREAMS
MOUCHETTE HAD HER FIRST PERIOD ALL OVER THE STREET SO EVERYONE KNOWS.
YOU DIRTY SLUT!


pull a stunt like that again and i will have you shut down,i'll get your
ISP provider banned and i will give all your domains ips to the
church of scientology,and don't pretend u didn't know what u did ,u know what
u did,in 3 seconds i can send a virus that is 7kb and it can flood
u off the network.

and omg all you Fascist psychologists they don't need a reason its
there choice,so fuck off the answer page and stop trying to sound
like docter phil and go play with your Robix cube.

IF ANYONE FUCKING ADDS ME WITHOUT ASKING I WILL FUCKING BLOCK
YOU AND THEN GO BUY A CHOCOLATE BAR AND THEN GO STAND
OUTSIDE THE GYM AND EAT IT SLOWLY.

late imbeciles

have a nice day...
09 Aug 2008 morula hi there, i can t really remember where i stoped in my story, i meant to write how i jumped off a balcony from the 3rd floor, i wouldn t know the exact reasons why i did that this is why I told you about the lesbian, so many things pissed me off that night, I was growing more and more nasty you know, the priest later told me I had this great plant that had grown in my chest, he said I lacked oxygene because the plant was taking all the space in my lungs, like it had become more and more difficult for me to breathe, he gave me this book to read too I remember the end, three little mice that march into a cat's mouth, holly fun that book i wonder if you d help me tell me what s the title, and who wrote it, I read 100 times the suicide of the little mouse, but i skipped most passages, I hate romances on TV anyway, i m a natural born hater, my aunt called me evil many times, only the priest made it sound all different telling me of the plant, the girl in the book had a waterlily inside her, I m not sure why hers had started growing, from all I know she committed no sin, the alien in my body was definitely put there for purposes of equity, I thought about the plant, my friend agreed I deserved it, now i m drifting away I meant to write how i jumped from that building, later I drove against a tree and cut open my veins but I m not so proud about those suicides, they suck, I never reached the state of bliss and happiness of flying down that building, the moment before I was choking with disgust, hate was like a poison in my body, I talked to a philosopher that night he was drunk and babbling in ancient greek, I heard him describe exactly how it felt inside me, I was gutted he knew about it, he called that a slave s moral, because it rises from resent, that guy was a professor of philosophy but he was drunk all over, and telling things he d never say normally, how humans are not equal, how they will be rewarded according to the inside of their brains, and some of them were slaves and others were masters, and the homicidal bitch I said, who comes down in every kitchen to determine who will serve and who will eat, I said that like I d been thinking about it, but i was quoting a poet i d heard before, I was only firing some guns at his face for the fun, but i knew he was right in was he said, it all depends on the quantity of resent, how much you ve born with, how much you grow over the years, how much circulates in your fluids, resent makes you despicable, i agreed as a matter of fact I could not contradict him, resent is the lowest emotion, and ugly too and despicable I know, they later called it a "plant", the priest told my mother, like I was human after all

now i d listened to all that crap in silence and i d become rather angry in effect, a doctor i met at the hospital diagnosed me paranoid, i had not told him all the details though, and how and why i felt like flying, I swear I felt genuine happiness, that s why i never talk about it, noone would understand it was more than relief I swear the pain had no more importance I was cured and purified, all the hate and anger and resent inside me, and most of all DISGUST no longer ached, the fall lasted no more than 10 seconds, SUICIDE HURTS PEOPLE, SEE THAT BRUISE ON MY WRIST IT HURTS AS MUCH AS MOSQUITO BITES AT LEAST

NOW I LOST MY POINT I M SORRY
my email is junglevanina771@hotmail.com not the one i entered in the previous message
20 Jun 2008 shirley i have sat here in bed and read these letters of how people feel .i fully understand , but to kill one self is deff not the best answer remember that song , i get knocked down but i get up again well that is how tru life is for everyone.or chers song words go , you have to search in side yourself .that is tue as all answer will come to us.
some times in life i can cope and feel i dont want to be here , i am still here why becasue there is a reason for of us to be here but we have to find that reason deep down within.
when i was born all was fine , then when i was 7 yrs old my life changed from that day for ward i went through hell , from being beaten for no reason by my father, had to go without food, had to take the other familys punishment standing out side in just my knickers in the winter freezing cold, fag burn on my chest, my father bring home peadophiles to see if i was having sex when i was a teenager , i wasnt allowed to speak never allowed to laugh, never allowed to cry with all what was going on had a knife thrown at me and went deep into my arm. being raped , picked on by your owm family having no one to turn to was awfull but what kept me going was all i wanted was to have my own family and i would never treat them like this what i was going through , as i got older even more things happened my sister husband tried to rape me could i say anything no as he watched my every move. then i got forced into a marriage he raped me i had a i child he did the same as my family it i was blamed for things i didnt do he had affair with my sister they had a kid i eventually divorced him but but i had to gegt my kids back from what he had done he told lies to my family the took my kids away from the abducted them yes i was ill for months but i still suvived , and but hey i did take lots of pills and was moments from death i was in hospital andthey pmped my stomache out all i wanted to do was die i could nt go on but yes i saw that light my body was going and all off a sudden i heard a shout mummy and hey body came back from going towards the light.
even now with the yrs that has passed i had met other fellas got married and yes they beat me and tried to kill me threaten me with a gun , try and kill me in a car beat teh crap out of me but hey some how another i am still here .
i am now re married yes he is nice but i still get very low and feel depressed but i cope i dont know how but i do i have 3 children 2 lads and a girl my daughter is getting married next yr and some times i feel how will i suvive another yr so if i can do it you can i have had so much that sometimes i feel is life worth living and some times i feel no it is nt but then i feel you have come this way this far i am now 44 so please do not commit your self to death as you can not re live your live take a deep look at what is making you sad .and then try and think of a way to improve it or think of way that person you loved so much would want you to be .life is for living and love is for giving anyone who is thinking of death your welcome to e mail me at vivamenorca41@aol.com

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