I forgot that I used to post here. Last few things I posted are about 5 years old. Same things I’ve been saying all this time.
I keep considering suspension hanging — hanging myself off of the doorknob with my belt.
Would sleeping pills work? How many should I take?
I’m exhausted.
Happened again. I was pushed beyond the breaking point and I broke.
For breaking, I’ve been pushed, once again.
This is the same scenario God has put me into, over and over and over again.
I don’t have a choice — I have to kill myself. It’s the only way God will ever stop fighting with me.
I wish I had the guts to kill myself.
What do I have to do?
What do I have to do to make you understand that you *have* to stop fighting with me?
I’ve been telling you for years now that this is killing me, but you continue to fight and pick and push.
I really do have to kill myself, don’t I. That’s the only way to make you leave me alone, isn’t it.
I don’t want to kill myself. I want to be happy, but God doesn’t want me to be happy, so I never will be.
I cannot live like this anymore.
I’m about 220, 5’8″. Would one box of sleeping pills and a 6-pack of Smirnoff Ice be enough?
It’s GOT to STOP!!
No more picking on me
No more fighting with me
No more of this where I do everything right and watch it fail anyway
No more putting me in the worst possible position
No more of this “You always LOSE!”
NO MORE!!
I don’t want your damn pity
I don’t want your sympathy
I want life to cooperate with me!
I want what most people take for granted!
It’s going to stop. If the only way to make it stop is for me to hang, then that’s how it will be. It’s no big loss to the world, because I’m never going […]
I’ve watched everything I do fail. Every attempt I’ve made to make this pointless, bullshit, unfair thing I have called a life liveable has backfired, leaving me in worse shape than I was before I started.
As it currently stands, I freak out 10 times a day, and I spend hours every day lamenting and bemoaning my position.
Blaming me for this is like throwing gas on the house, throwing a match on it, then saying that the house was faulty.
This happens *every* time; not just once or twice, but *every* time. I’ll admit that I’m less-than-perfect, and I’ve made mistakes, but I can’t, for the life […]
I don’t give a rat’s ass what my family thinks (with the exception of a couple of nephews and a niece) because they decided a long time ago that I was beneath them, and they won’t accept or acknowledge that they’ve wronged me in any way, shape, or form, so if my suicide causes them to feel an achy pain that they can’t lift every bloody day, then we’re even.
I have a lot of friends, many of whom care about me quite a bit. I feel bad about how much it will hurt them after I kill myself. They’re the reason why I haven’t done […]
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