Any port in a storm they say. A safe port, a safe haven for me is pot. The chances of me taking my life when I have access to pot is minimal, not impossible but minimal. My experience has been marijuana placates the suicidal mind, it acts as a balm, the sheer pleasure of the sensation produced keeps suicidal thoughts at bay. I haven’t smoked in a month so my tolerance is at zero. Pot, like any substance may be a fools paradise in the long run but if you’re seriously suicidal you might find some relief.
I remember a line in an old movie concerning the mentality behind suicide “one day a guy gets wise to himself, goes up to the top of the empire state building and jumps off”, the part ” gets wise to himself” has been in my thoughts lately. I’m starting to get wise to the reality of my situation and there is no other choice for me but suicide. It’s been happening in installments, there has been no sudden realisation, just a creeping sense of losing hope. I heard about the suicide of a young woman in New York, her suicide note hit the nail on the head when she described hope as just delayed disappointment, how very true. I can’t lie to myself any longer and delude myself that there is hope. I’ve opened up to a family member and went through my reasons for suicide one by one, perhaps this was an error on my part, anyway they swore to me that there is hope but I just can’t see it, they went further and said my reasons for suicide are ridiculous ( This wasn’t said disparagingly, but said from the perspective of a rational mind to an irrational mind) but remember “normies” see things differently, if I posted a blow by blow account of my reasons for suicide many people on SP would find my reasons perfectly understandable if not familiar.
Just heard about the suicide of Keith Flint. He was the lead singer of The Prodigy. People reading this in England and Ireland will know that group well, not sure how well known The Prodigy are in America/Canada. This suicide is fucking inexplicable, he seemed like the last guy you would expect to check out by suicide. I always imagine it’s the quiet, deep guy who takes his life but you never really know. R.I.P Keith and thanks for the music.
Suicidal thoughts have turned me into the most selfish guy on the planet. My brother’s wife just had a baby and I keep broaching the topic of suicide. I’m going round to see him tonight with the express intention of asking for permission to end my life. That’s how deranged I’ve become. I don’t want my suicide to come as a bolt out of the blue so I want to prepare my family for it. How fucking low is that. Myself and rational thought have become strangers. I just can’t control suicidal ideation. It’s too strong.
The name of the game concerning suicide is Lethality. When one can’t take one more second of their life the logical thing to do is employ a suicide method of the highest lethality. For my worn out, panic stricken brain suicide by train is less scary then continue to live with a mind full of scorpions, my mind goes in 10 diff directions at once all day every day this is totally unacceptable for a man to call this his life. I’m starting to feel calm now because I’m gravitateying towards jumping under a train. I’m
The other day I heard about the suicide of a young mother. I didn’t know her personally but someone I knew was acquainted with someone who knew her. I believe implicitly that everyone should reserve the right to end their life if they wish but if you’re a mother of young children ( in this tragic case under five years of age) are you not obliged to continue. I have no children myself, in my mental state bringing children into this world is out of the question but if I did have children suicide would be off the menu. I’m not judging this mother, I’ve been on the receiving end of judgement concerning my own suicidal impulses and it achieves nothing but if you have brought children into the world are you not duty bound to hang on until they’re at least 18. Perhaps this was a spur of the moment suicide but in my experience most suicides have been building up over the years and are not done in the heat of the moment. I kind of know the hellish battle this mother had to face before checking out because thoughts of my family are what stops me from completing but you reach a point where you go through with it anyway. The suicide of a mother or father for that matter with young children has always struck me as the most tragic, may she rest in peace.
Some people just get lost in life. In the suicide of a member of the rock group Crowded house (I think it was the drummer) the leader of the group spoke out and said the guy lost his way in life. It ended in the guy being found hanging in a park in Australia. I don’t remember NOT being lost in life. I was lost from the word go. How I’ve held on for this long is miraculous. 2018 should have been the year I completed, now I’m gonna have to push things back to 2019. So lost, so fucking irreparably lost.
- In an 1848 novel by Balzac ” lost illusions” which I read when I was in my early twenties there was an extended paragraph which I found astonishing, astonishing because of the psychological insight contained within. It said ( I’m paraphrasing because it’s been nearly 14 years since I read it) that there are 3 types of suicide. 1. Suicide borne of despair. 2. Suicide which is reasoned out. 3. Suicide after a long illness. ( The illness in question was not specified but my instinct tells me hardcore depression) it went on to say a man can backtrack from the first and second type of suicide but not from the third. The third will claim his life in the end. I know deep down I belong in the third category. Modern therapy doesn’t like to hear of such brutal realities and will declare boldly anyone can be saved, a nice thought but just not true. For some suicidal folk it’s just inevitable in the long run.
I remember a suicide many years ago. A woman drove off a pier. The divers who recovered the car from the water found a note inside, it read “this is hell”, scrawled repeatedly down the page. At the time I remember thinking how I would of gladly liked to have been an occupant of that car and how true the suicide note was, those three words “this is hell” have stayed with me. My life is indeed hell, Christmas has exacerbated despair within me, it hit me like a sledgehammer today!
Today I had to go from the southside of Dublin to the Northside of Dublin for weed, an awkward nearly 3 hour trip overall. When I got there i said to my guy ” for fucksake, I had to drive halfway across the county for this” to which he replied ” I had to go up north to get it, four hours”. Street marijuana in Europe does be sprayed with God only knows to bulk up the weight, so to get unsprayed real weed you have to go to a grower and travel out of your way. How I would love the convenience of walking into a dispensary like our American and Canadian friends, buying high quality shit and leaving. Marijuana can help suicidal people feel happy for a few hours so Legalize it universally. Anyway enough of the rant, think I’ll smoke some of that topgrade shit that was so hard to get.
It’s my birthday in little over a fortnight, how I dread it, how I fear it, it’s gonna push me over the edge. When u make up your mind to end it u paradoxically become calm, it’s like a line from Pushkin I remember “when a man has decided upon a dangerous but inevitable course of action his heart beats steadily but calmly”. Suicide is inevitable for me, last time I tried, over ten years ago, I used the pill overdose method, it’s not like in the movies, one pill consumed gently after another, bullshit, you scoop the pills into your mouth like a dog tucking into a bowl of chicken, I took 100 to no avail. This time I want a more reliable method like a gun but due to where I live (Ireland) that’s out of the question, so perhaps hanging or a train will have to suffice.
In the history of humanity, since man evolved from the Ape my self esteem is the lowest, and no self esteem is the root cause of suicide irrespective of what therapists say.
I ask myself why continue on a daily basis. It’s getting harder to come up with a satisfactory answer. My family would be destroyed by my suicide, that’s why I continue but If they knew the hell that is my life maybe they could let me go. I fucking hate life, there is no joy or happiness or contentment in my life. Drug induced highs are the only source of pleasure in my life and let’s be honest what kind of life is that? The only time I’m at peace is when inebriated but reality is always waiting to pounce.
“How fierce must be the hurricanes that blow through the mind of a man that seeks solace from the muzzle of a pistol”, is how Balzac quite eloquently put the mindset behind blowing your head off, it’s as true today as it was when those words were written in 1830. The hurricanes that blow through my mind can be pacified only by substance use, namely pot and Ambien, under the influence of those substances is the only time I can think staight, the sensation of a clear head has become a long forgotten memory, what is it like to be able to think clearly? Plot your next move? I don’t know anymore, why continue? I feel the end coming. If I had a convenient method like the aforementioned pistol, I would have checked out long ago.
I’m quite curious as to people’s nationality on this site. I’m Irish and I’m guessing from the penmanship of the posts here most members are either American or canadian but I could be wrong, there could be people from everywhere writing here.
- You only get so many get out of jail free passes in life and I’ve cashed in all mine. I’m up against the brick wall of reality and I don’t think I’m gonna make it. I would literally have to start from scratch to continue with life and that scares me. I’m in my 30’s, how do you start all over in your 30’s? I let life pass me by and now I’m playing catch-up, what if it’s too late? I’ve made my bed and now I have to lie in it, I think it might be too late to make another.
At heart I’ve never felt at one with the digital age we live in (that’s if you want to call it living) I think people had a better quality of life in years gone by, okay you had a shorter life expectancy but none of the horseshit technology has imposed on us, from morning to night technology, so called social media what is it really but a game of oneupmanship, there’s a hypothesis that the more we rely on technology the more suicide rates go up. Just step outside the door what will you see but everyone on smartphones, conversation is becoming a lost art. It’s ironic I have to use technology to denigrate it. I think I would of flourished 50 or a 100 years ago but in today’s world is it really worth the aggravation, perhaps I’m romanticizing the past but do we really have long to go as a species with technology advancing at breakneck speed, maybe the luddites were right after all. I walked into Mc Donald’s the other day they want you to order your food via touchscreen, then your issued a ticket with a number the queue spilled out thru the door messily and twenty minutes elapsed before my number came up, it will be the drivethru for me from now on. Perhaps it’s just me who can’t seem to get on board with technology but I just had to rant on this topic
The cliffs of moher lie on the west coast of Ireland, a famed beauty spot, popular with tourists and so forth, but also a notorious suicide spot, the only other suicide spots I’ve heard of are beachy head in England and the golden gate bridge, but I guess every country has them. Those cliffs are about a four hour drive from me and lately my thoughts have been gravitating towards jumping off. That four hour drive would be hell, “give life another try” my instinct of self preservation would say but truth be told I see no other way out. The best policy would be to jump immediately, I remember doing a bungee jump once, the instructor said jump straightaway or you won’t jump at all, the same rules apply to a suicidal leap, I would jump, cleave the air and plunge into the Atlantic, or perhaps the rocks below, sudden death upon impact. It’s a 500 feet fall, I guess that would take 30 seconds, then its all over. How my loved ones would take the news holds me back but I don’t know for how much longer I can live this fucking hellish life.
I’m at the mercy of a ludricrously vivid imagination. Before any decision all I can imagine are the pitfalls and negative consequences. I remember reading in a novel once -” imagination the enemy of men, the father of all terrors”, how fucking true that is. People with little or no imagination are less of a suicide risk, the Homer Simpsons of this world I truly envy, ignorance is bliss!
- Some people just aren’t made for life and I’m one of them. I feel the end coming, i’ve no choice, to die by my own hand is my only option. I’m starting to override my anguish about what my suicide would do to my loved ones, if they knew how I see myself they might respect my decision and say ” his life truly was that bad, it’s heartbreaking what happened but at least he’s found peace”. I just can’t do it anymore.