General

I went out and bought some items I could kill myself with, I was feeling so light and relaxed. There’s no need for worrying that I’m going insane anymore. No therapist, no medicine, nobody knows, and I’m ready to do it, i was ready to do it. 5 days left.

It’s so obscure, it’s so funny. The store on google map had a status of “open from 9-7”, yet it was closed when I went there, permanently. I looked through the scratched glass coated in a fume of wood chips and dust, it was all grey. Last time I walked pass it it was open, fully stocked, ready for any customer’s attempt of suicide.

this website doesn’t allow method sharing, however I had a painless method figured out. The last time I went there-why didn’t I go in? It was so easy.  Everything’s interrupted, I have to order some online. It won’t come on the day I plan to die and the work that I imagined will be gone. I had my mind set up, at last, isn’t it funny? Just because of a closed shop, everything, everything. I don’t want to go for the second plan, nobody wants the second plan, everyone just wants to die in peace. It’s selfish, it’s too much to ask for. I keep talking to myself and I look crazy, I told myself that it’ll all be over. It’s so funny, as if I’m in some sort of dark comedy, I wasn’t shocked, I didn’t feel anything, yet the little banner on the door pushed me out of the perfect ending, the only ending. Nothing ever goes my way.

Like many, I can’t just ‘move away’. Also rentals are really hard to find, and real estate agents tend to be you know what, so many people prefer to rent privately, I guess. But I’m in temporary social housing right now anyway. Yeah great, way to feel secure! Great, my post just sounds like a whole lot of complaining.
Anyway, in small towns, word gets around. So if I appear visibly agitated one day (I try to hide it………) then word will get around. I mean, word can get around anyway, even if it’s not even true. And then people will believe it. And that’s it.
I’m sick of my neighbour next door randomly sitting in his car and randomly spending time ‘working on his car’, sometimes for hours. The car runs and drives, what is he doing? All my neighbours irritate me. Oh well. They shouldn’t annoy me, because they technically don’t. They keep to themselves. I feel like I’m being watched all the time and listened to. I guess I’m being paranoid again.
Anyway, word has probably gotten around about me by now. I wish I could go and hide forever. I figure nobody here likes me at all. Well I’m not really asking to be liked anyway. If I’m just neutral it’s better. Oh well. When will I die from being miserable? 😛

i want to be loved but i just cant see a situation where i am. not in the way it feels right. maybe my expectations are too high……

Hello, my name is Tandra and I am 19 years old. I am a law aspirant, well to be honest, I don’t know what I am anymore. I finished my schooling last year and appeared for an entrance exam called CLAT. It is an All India entrance exam and thousands of kids compete to get into an National Law University. The total seats for General category students is just 800, because most of the seats are reserved for SC, ST, OBC, etc categories. I got an ALL INDIA RANK of 2188, which is not bad at all considering the competition. But it is not enough to get an NLU, and I had a plan for it, there’s just 6 months left for next CLAT and I thought I could make it the next time. But things are never this easy for me, My father is the most toxic person I have in my life right now, it’s been weeks since he has started torturing me and demeaning me and making me feel like a failure and making me feel less of a human. And this has been the same for years, he even questions my character as a woman. And trust me, there’s no greater pain than getting disrespected like this by your own father. I guess the only thing I can do right now to make him happy, is to die.

, why do I let myself suffer? Who’ll be there to really help?idk, and no one there’s only one who keeps me here and that’s because I can’t stand the thought of her going through her brothers suicide, if I can let go of that then I can be free .

Everyone has a Celebrity Crush supposedly. I remember as a kid my first ever crush was Jessica Biel. I used to race home from school on certain days to watch ‘7th Heaven’. Oh no, most certainly not for the Christian values, but for the beautiful Jessica Biel! I remember one mid afternoon my dad had walked into the living room unexpectedly and I flipped the channel nervously as if I was watching porn. Really, I just didn’t want him catching me watching 7th Heaven! A couple years later Jessica Biel left the show and I no longer had a reason to watch until I heard she was gonna be in the Texas Chainsaw Massacre movie. I remember being pretty psyched for that movie because I grew up watching those movies plus my lady Jessica was the star, lol. Eventually “out of sight out of mind”, I fell out teenage love with Biel, and eventually was introduced to Evanessence. Amy Lee has been my Celebrity Crush since like the early 2000’s. Not because I think she’s hot but I always thought she was sweet and badass lol. Sweetness and badassery has always outweighed the Hotness factor for me. Plus I was a little Jelly when Jessica married that loser Justin Timberlake lol

(Note: This was actually a post I made to another forum i’m apart of.  I felt like Suicide Project could use somewhat of a ligther post, since the last few have been pretty dark.

I have about a week and a half of posting left before I leave Suicide Project.  I hope some of you take heed and take up the role as light bringer in the long run.

I’m a personal believer in “nothing last forever”, and all things are only temporary,. like me being here.
No i’m not killing myself.  I think life will do that for me in the long run no matter what, so why cut it short?  A relationship/ woman will never bring me to a point to take my own life.  It has to be something BIG.  Something that really backs me into a corner.  Depression and anxiety?  I’ve battled those demons since I was about 14, and i’m still here a lifetime later..  I’m not immune to those diseases, but i’ve already decided that they need to kill me with cancer before I ever “kill myself”.

I think if ever I wanted to die, i’d suit up, break some bad guy bones, save a few people and die in the field before I ever take my own life.  I don’t think suicide is  “the cowards way out”.  I just think it would be the cowards way out for ME personally.
Too many suicide deaths in my family.  I can’t allow myself to ever be that.  I need meaning behind my death.
Not that i’m always dwelling on death,. But I do dwell on legacy a lot.

People often tell me.  Children are the secret to a happy life.

Truth be told.. I fucking scared shitless to ever have kids of my own.  I’m much to afraid of never feeling “normal” before I ever have kiddos of my own.  What if i’m sick in the mind and I just am balancing on that fine line of crazy?  I can never allow myself to have a child while I still think this way.

I think i’m responsible enough not to want a child.  But depressed enough to want something more than just living with my girlfriend.  I’m conflicted.  Do I talk to someone and “create”, or do I jus follow my instincts that i’m just not meant to be a Dad?

(Sorry, not your typical Suicide Project post, but I can’t help but want to freely speak my mind to someone.  Even if nobody reads it.. someone will read it.)

My mindless rambles tend to carry on and on.  Sorry about that.  Thanks for listening if you’ve got this far.  Peace and love.

Well, I promised on here that I would do it, and I did try. However my efforts were thwarted because this particular strategy though effective, is very painful.

I went to the store and bought glass cleaner (active ingredient is ammonia) and a gallon of bleach. I poured the contents of both into my bathtub. Nothing really happened. I decided that it needed to be more concentrated, but I was out of glass cleaner. I found some lysol toilet bowl cleaner (active ingredient hydrochloric acid) and poured it into the bathtub as well. That was the ticket.  Immediately my lungs began to burn, I began coughing uncontrollably, my eyes burned, my throat burned. These two chemicals combined make a toxic gas. I knew this ahead of time. My chest became tight and I was short of breath. I made it out of the bathroom to the couch where I called 911. The EMT’s immediately put me on oxygen, but my O2 saturation was low 80’s. Medically speaking this is called hypoxia. I was taken by ambulance to the hospital, where I was given 2 albuterol breathing treatments, and underwent a battery of tests. One particular test was blood gas. This blood test is taken from an artery as opposed to a vein. The results of that test revealed my blood was only 56% oxygenated, which meant my organs and brain were essentially starved for oxygen. I was transferred to another hospital where I was again placed on oxygen and given 4 more albuterol breathing treatments along with repeated blood tests. I was released 24 hours later, with a diagnosis of chemical pneumonia AKA chemical burns in my lungs.

The one thing I learned from this experience is this is not the way to check out.

My family and the doctors do not know it was a suicide attempt. They think I was cleaning the bathroom and got creative with the cleaning stuff. Since I have yet another failed attempt under my belt, I guess I will leave it this way.

I felt the need to put this here. Maybe it will help someone.

Red and Blue
What undeniable pain
Choosing between red and between blue.
Most said it was easy,
I said I loved them both the same.
But maybe this wasn’t as true as I thought.
I love red a lot.
I love it for the glint in blood
The velvet in petals
The anger in soul
And the grass on the knoll.
It’s beautiful passion rinses through us all
It’s telling tale of love and hate.
But for me it was not to be.
For blue held my heart, though I viewed it not in first.
The oceans full of silent fury
The skies telling of oh such beauty
The petals holding the dew of rain
The fog that melts through my brain
And the water that falls from the heavens blessing us with change.
I love both red and blue so much.
But in the end I chose, and I chose wrong.
Red held my heart though I understood blue more than most.
I thought blue was perfect though red was the calmer.
The tearing of my soul never did well without the comfort of red.
So if you find yourself in a position like mine,
Don’t forget to look twice.

Hey everyone,

I had a slight relapse in my self harm and I just need a good excuse for a cut at my waist level… I can’t talk about it and I will hide it but just incase, please anyone help

I’m crushing on someone for the first time in over a year, but he likes someone else. We are so close, best friends; sometimes i think im enough and that he likes me but at the end of the day i know he doesn’t

if you saw my last post…I’m still drinking almost every night, its pretty bad right now. i started cutting again, which sucks i guess; most things suck though

everything is just so hard, i cry too much, i feel too much but at the same time i feel nothing at all. i don’t know what to do, or how to fix myself, i dont know if i can even fix myself or not. Maybe i deserve all this pain, maybe this life is meant for me.

I’ve made connection impossible for myself, through my actions, and what I’ve become. But large parts of me don’t realize. They go on longing for something that’s hard to define. The ability to relax and be myself around someone. Intimacy. To truly care for someone other than myself. To be known, understood, accepted, loved, as I truly am. To be ok with another person. To be acceptable.

But I’m not acceptable. And I never can be, regardless of what I do from here.

So I’m continuing to live because I’m afraid of dying. But my mind is driving me crazy, desperately grasping out for any way to make a real connection, when it’s just not possible. A real life is not possible. I live a twisted kind of shadow life. Still, I can’t say I don’t deserve this.

My first big assignment and I blew it.

I failed again. I failed to turn in my homework on time. I failed to prioritize what I needed to do first. I failed myself. I failed at life. At least my symptoms arent flaring up. At least I’m not falling straight into psychosis. But, still. I’ve failed. The meds made me soo tired i basically slept through monday and tuesday and by the time wendesday came I was already late. I found this guy under the miniclips in the WAP video. I can relate so much to him. I hate how  the system doesn’t work. Everything from hospitals to prison it’s broken. America is awesome in many aspects don’t get me wrong. But there is so much that could change. I just wish things got better globally. I just wish things got better for me perpetually. I just hope things get better for the guy in the video. I feel so alone. The group where I was supposed to meet people with schizophrenia who I could relate to and not have to lie about my condition and about being disabled ended due to this pandemic. There is no group therapy other than over the phone. And it isn’t the same. Thus far I met one person on it. Which I am thankful for, but it isn’t what was planned.  I’m so scared of failing school and being just another dropout. I’m so scared of letting myself down. I’m so scared of having a relapse. To the point where I actually make it to my appointments on time and I don’t ask for a lower dosage of meds. I’m terrified of getting corona. That is no way to go. It is a cruel virus. It is so cruel. I feel so powerless.

I do make an effort to follow my therapist’s advise and use methods I have learned to steer my mind away from the dark thoughts which have plagued me for the last 45 years.  Sometimes this works and I can get myself on a positive track but it is not a stable track.    Too many of the triggers I have for dark thoughts are around me and I am unable to control that.   I have limited my access to news feeds and am careful what I read on social media, but there are too many things out there.   Our country and world seem to be sinking,  My work which I normally love is getting to me, my health is not great, and I am not communicating with my wife well at all.   Because of the COVID and her work she and I are living apart and I have been unable to tell her how I feel.    All in all I do not seem to be able to control anything.   Again my therapists advise to get a perspective on it is good.   Deal with the things I can, and accept the things I can.   Sounds familiar because it is the jist of the serenity prayer.    The problem is I am losing the wisdom to figure out which is which.

I am almost 60 and feel obsolete in all regards.    I do not want to make a big statement and say help me or get attention.   I just want to disappear from it all.  Is that too much to desire.     What has saved me from taking this further in the past is not having a plan.     When I do have a plan I want it to be a “sure thing” and it has to be painless and not have any moment of last few seconds of terror/fear (jumping of a building will not do).  I’ve wanted it to be a way that I can hopefully just go to sleep.      Well,  I have thought through that now and have something that should work, but it will take a few days to get it all into place obtaining the right supplies (No I am not going to share it for obvious reasons)  I do wonder if I start the process that I should try one more time to not do this.  In the past I have found myself calling my therapist or going to the ER when I was in process of putting my plan in action.   My question to me is am I at that place now.

On the 1st of December 2019, i posted my last post. A month after, on the 4th of January, i attempted suicide. I overdosed on pills. My parents were witnesses, they found me, apparently dying. For a few weeks after, i thought it was all a dream. Until my father showed the empty pill packets, I didn’t believe him.

It’s been nearly a year since my attempt. It’s much better, I might even say I’m happy.  But… I can sense a change. It’s not depression and the thoughts of dying anymore. It’s lack of empathy and emotions. I don’t care about the things I used to be so stressed about before.  i don’t care about being alone. I see death as an art. I have changed. For the better. Darker.

 

I was broken from the inside.

The depression slowly chipped me away, finally devouring me.

I could not beat the negativity.

I hated myself. Even though I tried so hard demanding my memories that kept getting cut off to ‘wake up,’ all I got in return was silence.

I‘d rather stop if I cannot breathe.

I asked who could be responsible for me.

You’re the only one.

I felt utterly alone.

It is easy to say “I‘m going to end it.”

It is very difficult to actually go through with it.

I’ve been struggling through the difficulty.

I told myself that it‘s just me wanting to run away from everything.

It’s true. I really did want to run away.

From me.

From you.

I asked, “Who‘s there?” It’s me. It‘s me again. And it’s me the third time.

I asked, “Why do I keep on losing my memory?” They said it‘s due to my personality. I see. It’s all my fault.

I wanted someone to notice (my suffering), but no one knew. Of course, they wouldn‘t. They never met me before.

I asked why people live. Just. Just. They live “just because.”

If I ask why people died, they would probably say they couldn’t bear it any longer.

Troubling thoughts flooded my head. I never got the chance to learn how to change dull pain into pure joy.

Pain is just pain.

I kept reprimanding myself not to do so.

Why? Why can‘t I even end my life with my own will?

I tried figuring out the reasons for my pain and suffering.

I already had the answer. I was in pain because of me. It’s all my fault that I carry so many imperfections.

Teacher, is this what you wanted to hear?

No. I didn‘t do anything wrong.

I used to think that it’s so easy for doctors to blame your personality for the suffering in their calm voice.

It surprises me how I am feeling this much pain. Those people, who have suffered worse than I, seem to go on living perfectly fine. Those weaker than I am live on as well. I guess not. Among the living, there is no one who is suffering worse and no one who is weaker.

The only answer I got back was “just live nevertheless.”

Asking the purpose of life more than one hundred times is not for me. It‘s for you.

I wanted to do it for me.

Please don’t say things you don’t know.

How could you ask me to still look for reasons behind my pain? I told you multiple times why I‘m suffering. Do I need more reasons to be in pain? More dramatic details in my stories? More stories even?

I told you already. Were you absent-minded when I told you? Things you can bear and even come above do not leave scars.

It wasn’t my responsibility to go against the world.

It wasn‘t my path to become world-famous.

That’s why they say it‘s hard to go against the world and to become famous. Why did I choose this path? It’s quite funny now that I think about it.

It‘s a miracle that I endured through it all this time.

What more can I say. Just tell me “good job.”

You did great. Tell me I suffered enough.

Even though you can’t laugh right now, just don‘t send me off blaming me.

Good job.

You suffered a great deal.

Good-bye.

I WANT TO CRY BUT I DONT KNOW WHY I WANT TO CRY..I GUESS IM TIRED? PHYSICALLY AND EMOTIONALLY..NOTHINGS RIGHT IN THE WORLD ANYMORE..EVERYTHINGS SEEM SO NOT GOOD..HOW I WISH I COULD BE BETTER..

I feel like I’m barely a part of life, thanks to a little known and poorly understood DISEASE known as situational mutism. It’s so poorly understood, that people with this burden are having to refer to it as ‘situational mutism’ as the actual name implies it’s optional.

Just like most of us hear from others, ignorant people who refuse to believe we aren’t quiet or shy. In my case, throughout my late teens and early adulthood (from 18) I’ve been infantilised. Kick me if that’s the wrong spelling. In a condescending way I would have people speak to me in soft voices, as if speaking any louder would break me. And the biggest form of psychological torture is others walking eggshells around you, even when you’re an easily approachable person.

But with this curse named Situational Mutism, aka. involuntarily mutism, I’m unable to verbalise how uncomfortable their odd behaviours make me feel. Because I’m unable to talk in certain environments that trigger this deep-seated defense mechanism I never asked for, I try to convey my openness in other ways, by using fair facial expressions and wearing clothes that hint at my personality.

This does FUCK ALL to help the wrong perceptions people have over me, and the amount of times I’ve heard people say to me in response to this, “aren’t you also assuming stuff about their character?”
We learn so much in life by being observant, looking for patterns, looking at body language etc.

Imagine looking at life and not truthfully being able to interact with it, in the minds of others I’m just this timid, mentally ill, humourless creature with big peeping eyes and not worth anyone’s time. Nope, don’t try to trick me into having hope. In my 21 years of life and having wasted years in school, not once did people see me for me. I spent 2 years in college not so long ago without a single friend.

Want to hear the worst of my shame? Thanks to having no voice, I’m still stuck in that one place I should’ve left years ago. My only understanding of sex and relationships are from fanfics and porn. Because I haven’t been able to experience either of those, if you started telling me about your love life or whatever, I can’t realistically picture it. I can’t even tell you what a relationship is like or how the dynamics work.

And as I grow older it becomes more embarrassing to have no experience, and I’m frustrated and love-starved. And I’m INCREDIBLY PISSED OFF that I’m an extrovert that is forced to be an introvert, because of this fucking mutism. No social life for me, no hanging out at the pub, no memories of having friends to hang out with in my teenage years. No. I was just an agoraphobic, housebound mess who wished people weren’t so cruel.

Anyway. Be appreciative that you’re not in my boat, it’s Hellish to be observed under a false sense. My quietness is assumed to be my one defining traits, I don’t have any chances to make a first impression. Fuck my existence.

i wonder how long it will be before i buy my way out and how much longer after before i finally take it.

Do you ever feel like you don’t belong, that even though people say they care and love you that it feels like it’s fake that just because they know your struggling they feel they have to say it. That they don’t really mean it. That it sounds like it’s forced. Because it does for me I don’t feel like I belong in my own home I feel like I just need to be here to feed and clothe everyone. I guess if I felt pretty I’d be a cinderlla in my own family. Just without the fancy godmother. Most days I don’t even consider my own feelings because what use does it do to wish on being able to be open about my feelings when no one wants to listen.