So i took a long walk to the outskirts of my small town to a trail that leads to a bridge over a shallow river. I brought along one of my favourite possessions, my pocket knife. It sounds silly but I’ve had it my entire (short) life. It means a lot to me… Anyway I was on the bridge and threw it downstream as hard as I could… I felt it represented my hatred and rage so i got rid of it.
Then i walked home slowly and I felt almost happy with myself.
share your suicide story
Report Post
Please log in to report posts
2 comments
Like
I remember January 18th 2004, ……… I flushed an 8 ball of Cocaine down the toilet. I haven’t used cocaine since. I was a @#%$up sensation yet a Liberating one at the same time.
Hopefully the feeling you have from throwing the knife into the river lasts for you.