Anther year since I tried to kill myself. Life’s pretty good. I’ve been talking to one of my friends who recently expressed interest in me. I like them, everyone thinks they like me. But I’m scared, scared they do and scared they don’t. They have texted me into the night, they’re very sweet and considerate and they want to help me, but I’ve swallowed my secrets and depression for so long I can’t give them up. Life is pretty good. I still want to die. That irrational persistence is the mark of a true suicidal person, I think.
I need a plan. If I don’t […]
In the past few months I slipped into a deeper than my usual constant state of depression and decided ‘that’s it, either I die or I stop living like this.’
I went to my doctor for sleeping problems and was prescribed Trazadone. It’s made me improve a noticeable amount, at least with sleep. I thought maybe I could get better, but what do I look up tonight? I want to kill myself. A third of my life’s been shadowed by depression and I’m tired. The second I got the prescription to the pharmacy I was looking up overdosing on it. Would I be easy, would […]
Since the end of my childhood I thought obsessively about my death. It became self termination, soon after. I tried to kill myself three times, one OD, going to a cliff to jump (I didn’t, and suffered no injury), and drowning. I wasn’t under long enough to pass out. I’ve held a knife in my hands thinking about burying it in my body multiple times. I think about suicide constantly, but over the years only attempted really once, I suppose. I feel as though I don’t have the right to call myself suicidal. If I’m not that, what am I? If I don’t feel this […]
I’m so tired of this. Every night the urge gets worse. Worst part is, I don’t think I’ll ever work up the nerve to kill myself. I can’t buy a gun, and there’s no way to hang myself (nothing sturdy enough to withstand the jolt of a body dropping). I don’t have strong enough rope, anyway. There’s a knife in here with me, and in the moments when I slither out of bed to look out at the sky–star light star bright please don’t make me live another night–I hold it, study it, contemplate it. It’s blunt, and forcing it past layers of skin and […]
I’m slipping back into depression. For the first time in months I deliberately took a razor to skin and edged it in. The familiar slice and twinge offered a precious moment free of the past that haunts me. It felt so GOOD. So tremendously good. My wrist is aching for a gash right now, but I can’t. My wrists are clean. Under my clothes isn’t so pure. It’s the only thing that offers freedom from pain, and I can only imagine that deeper cuts and a tub of warm water would offer all the more bliss. I can’t. I can’t kill myself, can’t and won’t. […]
I hate myself. I hate myself so much. I want to die, truly I do. I dream of plunging a knife into my gut and slipping into ethereal darkness. My brain delights in torturing me and I just don’t want to go on like this. I’m trying to help myself, but I am relapsing. My friends wouldn’t be able to help me, and I tend to think none of them would understand where I come from. My friend made a comment about overdosing on pills and a someone she hated, and I said ‘it’s not easy.’ A hint into my hidden past. She just called […]
Sometimes I just want to walk out of the door in the morning and just keep moving, never look back. I want to leave myself behind and walk until I collapse from starvation, dying on the ground unknown and forgotten.
I don’t want to kill myself tonight (step up from the norm) but I don’t want to be here either. Hmm. Moved on form anguished suicidal to impassioned and unafraid of death, if not still a little eager to meet the Reaper.
It’s one of those nights when I feel so alone. There’s a hole in my stomach that holds a faint physical pain and a tremendous emotional one. It’s as if I died right this second I’d be okay with that and not a single person would miss me. I want to cut myself to sleep, and if I never wake up that’s all the better. I haven’t wanted to kill myself in months, but right now… I forgot how bad it felt, honestly. My minds racing and it’s focusing on all the stupid crap I’ve done, I want to cut so bad, but my dad’s […]
I cut to relieve stress, rage, pain, and sometimes just because I like how it makes me feel. I don’t always draw blood, but the pain is enough. I don’t like OTHER people hurting me. If I, say, fell in some gravel (which I have) its not the same feeling of satisfaction as if I was cutting myself. I know there may be some self harmers who are also masochistic, but in general, if you’re someone who self-injures, would you call yourself a masochist? What are your thoughts? This question struck me today, and now I’m very curious to get some other opinions.
Dear Sp,
You don’t know how much you’ve helped me
So thanks, because of you, I see, this life may have been meant to be
Ending this life is something I just mustn’t try to do
You’r helping my to improve
Because of you I see,
a hidden light within me
Thanks Suicide Project.
I draw the single, slim razor I broke out of a shaving head down my wrist. It works so well, I love it. The thin lines of crimson life seep out and form red drops. Its so beautiful. When the liquid threatens to spill I lap it up, the wonderful, metallic taste of life slowly draining out. Tomorrow I’ll put on the make up to conceal these scars, and hide my lovely blade somewhere safe. Cutting, I’m becoming addicted with you. I want to see my blood gushing out, but that much pain just doesn’t sit well with me.
Why did I post this? Because […]
I couldn’t do it. I got home from sneaking out, couldn’t get back in, had to call my parents then got yelled at. Heaps of guilt! YAY! They’re at wits end with me, said they wished I’d just get it over with. Well you know what? I wish that too. I don’t know why it hurts so goddamn much, and I have no reason for this pain. My life is perfect, and with these pills I can’t feel anything. I fucking hate it. I can’t cry, I’m empty, broken, alone within myself. I hate me, the girl who looks like an attention whore but only […]
Tomorrow is so close, yet it seems to take an eternity to arrive. Tomorrow is the day I’ve decided to kill myself. I feel at a general ease with that knowledge, and my brain tells me I should be horrified with the looming prospect of my demise. Screw that, I done being afraid, I’ve had near constant head and stomach aches all week, but now they’re gone. I’m not going to take my meds tomorrow because I didn’t today, no more point anymore. I suspect I will be more anxious and sick tomorrow night, but oh well. I’ll get home, masturbate one last time, then […]
I’m not afraid anymore. My soul has gone through the darkest place my twisted mind had made, I am not afraid.
In the depths of my despair, I learned something. Life just isn’t fair. I knew this before, but the prospect made my spirit soar. No matter what I do or say, the night won’t change to day.
My sight was clouded, but now I see. There’s a lighter place inside of me.
I have discovered peace with what I’ve chose to do. But I have to wonder, was I ever in charge?
The world seems so large, was I ever the decider of my […]
I feel literally sick. I’m so tired, so very tired, but I can’t sleep. I’ve basically given up, I’ve just been going through the motions each day. I’m an intelligent person, I know this feeling will pass. It will also return. I guess in a way I like this misery, I hold onto it because it is the only thing in life I can count on. The world is mean and unpredictable, simple as that. I am unhappy, don’t know why. Perhaps it is my intelligence that torments me. I am not so vain as to say I’m terribly smart, heck, I’m failing every class […]
I don’t think I can go on any longer, so I finally decided to do it. I tried suicide once before, but I chickened out and told my parents who took me to the ER. I feel sick, I disgust myself. So young in life and I already want to die. Want to know why? Because I’m too sane for this world. People go on everyday not knowing any answers, just living paycheck to paycheck. I am not skilled, I don’t try in school so I do badly. I’m unwilling to work for a good life, so I hope for a better work ethic in […]