I deeply hate this world, people are so cruel. They hate you or judge even if they don’t know you. They steal, lie, kill, rape, etc. Humans are selfish and disgusting. This world is fucked. Society is bullshit. I can’t wait till the day I die so I can leave this fucked up world. Hopefully it rots. I’m so tired, I try to see the good things about this world but all the bad things overpower the good. I can’t stand being here, I can’t stand being in my own skin either. Why the hell am I here? I want to take my own life but it seems painful and I don’t have the courage.
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I agree so much. The world is a horrible place. I don’t understand why people are so hurtful towards each other sometimes. I hope there’s a better place after here…
Right, anywhere but here
What drives me mad is they act like everything is great. It’s almost like they think “who cares about slave labor in china, rape culture in religions, or child murder in Africa and the Middle East. As long as I have my Starbucks and Mercedes life is great!” I am in favor of a mass extinction event.
They’re in their own fucking bubble they don’t want to pop. They dont want to face the actual reality
Even though it’s hard to see, the world is good. The mere fact that this website exists, that people here listen to our rants, the fact that the internet even exists for us to unleash our pain is a wonderful thing. Imagine a world without this website or without the internet. How would we be able to vent our problems? Would suicidal people find each other and talk freely on our own without being confined in an institution? I try to be thankful for the smallest things, the things we take for granted.
The reason we’re on this site is because were suicidal and depressed. If the world was good we wouldn’t need this site. Yeah I’m glad we have this site but I would much rather just be dead.
Speak for yourself. Yes, I’m depressed and have suicidal ideation, but I can see the good in the world. I know that many here aren’t in the same mindset.
Anne Sexton has a poem called Wanting To Die.
“Even then I have nothing against life.
I know well the grass blades you mention,
the furniture you have placed under the sun.
But suicides have a special language.
Like carpenters they want to know which tools.
They never ask why build.”
I guess I can relate with her. I still see the beauty. I still smile and laugh every day. But… I also want to die. My depression can get so bad that it’s like broken glass in my brain. And then I want to die because *I* am in such excruciating mental pain that I see no other way out. I don’t want to die because of the world. I want to die because I hurt.
claritee – Thank you for sharing that lovely poem. It definitely piqued my interest, and I will have to look up more of Sexton’s work.
I’ve been looking for poetry about suicide/death, and can’t believe I didn’t come across this one.
I agree, but I’d still say there’s people out there who aren’t as fucked up as most of the rest. People who themselves have gone through periods of extreme pain as a consequence are often more empathetic of and sensitive to other people’s pain as well.
And then you hear these people who say how wonderful the world is, and how were advancing so much, blah blah blah. The world is going to hell. Literally, as you said people judge you without even knowing you, the first thing people ask you when you see them is, “So, what do you do for a living?”.
Exactly
Oh goodness do i HATE that. People do tons of things, not me of course – i lay face down on the floor all weekend. People are fathers, mothers, muscians, gym rats, adventurists, model train enthusiasts, ultimate christmas decorators, chess players in the park… Why does “what do you do” always refer to work? and yes, why is it always the first question?
OP – Amen