It might not seem relevant on this forum, but I got to the question upon thinking all night about my death. I need to know opinions of wannabedeads like me.
What do you think? I guess it is.
I think I was 6 or 7 the first time I considered suicide. I really didn’t want to go to swim class–such a stupid, stupid reason to want to die. Nevertheless, I locked myself in my room and considered how to kill myself. I decided on a knife. I wanted to slice myself open. The knives were in the kitchen, though. I put on my swim suite and went to class. But from that day on, death was in the back of my mind. By the age of 10, I was mentally rehearsing my suicide note nightly and crying myself to sleep. My room was on the second floor, and my window was missing the protective screen. It would be so easy to climb out onto the roof and jump–but I was so afraid that it wouldn’t be high enough to kill me. Countless times, I’ve wished for a gun, or to be brave enough to step in front of a car. I would like to die, but I don’t want to harm anyone else. I don’t want to traumatize a driver, I don’t want to traumatize my family. I want to fall asleep and never wake up.
There are six kids in my family. I am not close with any of them, but they all seem to deeply love and care for each other. I’m not sure if my parents love me. If they do, I don’t want to hurt them. I can’t stand disappointing them. I don’t want them to be blamed for my death, either, even if I never felt like I could ever talk to them on an emotion level (they were always very awkward whenever the subject even came near that, and any kind of physical affection just wasn’t a thing in my family). I think they are generally good people. There is just something wrong with me that I don’t want them to be associated with.
I’ve never had a friend, either. Just acquaintances. No one I would ever talk emotionally with. I’ve never told anyone about my persisting death wish. But that’s also partially because I feel like I don’t deserve to feel this way–I get good grades, I have a family, I’m well-fed, I’m privileged. How dare I be so sad when I have it so good? Again, there is something wrong with me.
But I don’t trust the psychiatrists. My brother is bipolar, and after experiencing some of the “family treatments”, I can never respect or trust their methods. They were just so hurtful and pointless. And I don’t want my parents to to deal with the stigma of having another “crazy child”. I don’t want to deal with the stigma of being “crazy” either. I don’t want to bee seen that way, and if I ever get the guts to go through with dying, I don’t want anyone to stop me.
But I also don’t think I have the right to take my own life. I was given a chance to live, and I don’t think I have a say in who lives or dies–even for myself. So my desire to die and my belief that I don’t have the right to kill myself tear me up. I don’t know what to do and I can’t tell anyone. I think there were times when I didn’t obsess over death. How do I get back?
Every single day, a thought of me committing suicide or me simply not being here.. crosses my mind.
I want to obtain happiness within, but the darkness/sadness wins every time. It’s hard to walk up a very steep hill with 20tons on your back.
My thoughts are always with me, I cannot escape them.
my thoughts hurt me. actions hurt me. everything hurts.
I am currently a senior in high school. As the time went on throughout my high school years, I slowly started to gather information and reasoning on why I don’t need to be here anymore. I don’t feel important and there have been so many incidences where I was not remembered by the people I thought would. My “friends” all worry about each other, but when it comes to me I am nothing nor a thought. I have a multitude of stress at home to go along with my sadness and it just becomes too overwhelming. I also have work that kicks me while I’m down. If it’s my time to go, then I’m completely okay with that.
This is short and doesn’t have many details to properly explain, and I’m sorry for that.
This summer, two friends of mine seemed to become overly skeptical of me…. They seemed to always hint and nudge that they felt that I was a “*****”. I went from enjoying spending time with each of them to only seeing them grow more and more restless and uneasy around me and seeming to insult me at any given opportunity, and often for no reason at all.
One day I got sick of it and stopped talking to each of them. I went from hanging out with these 2 kids that I had been best friends with since pre school (we are now 23) almost every single day to never speaking with them and I haven’t voluntarily hung out with them since the summer time. So its been months. I honestly feel liberated and feel I should have done it sooner. I now just speak to and spend time with other people I consider myself friendly with and will only continue to do so so long as there exists mutual respect.
The other 2 guys that I more or less threw away ended up sorry about it. One of their girlfriends even reached out to me asking me why I wouldnt answer her boyfriend and to tell me how upset he is over the whole thing. I didn’t give her a legitimate answer. “sucks for him” I thought. If he really treasured the friendship so much, why did he never act like it while I was still giving him the time of day?
As for the other friend, he was at least man enough to reach out to me directly. He told me he wasn’t sure what he had done and why we went from being together all the time to barely ever seeing each other. I didn’t give him a legitimate answer either, really. Once again, where was all this kindness and concern when he still had the chance to give it to me?
As of now, I dont really feel bad over anything I’ve done. I genuinely believe I’ve never done a harmful thing to anybody before unless they’d had it coming. Just interested to hear other’s thoughts. I’ve never really discussed the situation at length with anyone.
I don’t want to bother anyone with my problem. And yet I feel as if I’ll explode. For the past week, I’ve had to watch my abuser walk down my same hallways, spend quality time with his friends in his new clothes (guess his mom spoiled him), while I with in my usual frustration, jumpy whenever I feel anyone come near me, wanting to run away and having no one that understands because I CAN’T TELL.
but what if i killed myself? what if i fell out the window? in my letter, i’d blame everyone that protected him, everyone that made me feel like i should stop being negative. i’d blame my parents for pretending to be on board with me getting therapy when in fact they’d rather i’d act like nothing happened.
BUT I DON’T HAVE THE PRIVILEGE TO DO THAT. I DON’T HAVE THE PRIVILEGE OF FEELING SAFE IN MY OWN BED. IN MY OWN HOME. I IMAGINE COLD HANDS ON MY BREAST WHEN I TAKE MY BRA OFF, WONDERING IF MAYBE I SHOULD GET A BREAST REDUCTION TO STOP MY OWN BROTHER FROM EXITING HIS ROOM AT 2AM MOLEST ME.
i imagine myself going back to my dad’s house. shooting five shots of espresso and buying a baseball bat and staying awake all night with the door unlocked (my dad recently put a lock on my door to keep my perverted brother at bay), waiting for him to sneak in my room while i hide in a dark corner and watch him discover what he thought was my body but is actually a bunch of blankets and my teddy bear then next thing he knows i’m swinging at his head and choking him with my belt.
I want to be that. I want to be powerful again. I want my father to find his favourite son on the ground, passed out, black but mostly blue, apparent that he was fighting for his life but no one came to his rescue. And I’ll point at him. And say. This is how I feel. Every. Day. Of. My. Life.
I hope you know I’m never asking you to see me again. I’m afraid to call you now because I’m being “annoying”. I’m not going to be making any effort anymore, that’s up to you. Things have been said, hurtful things – and with no explaination. I don’t have much trust for many people anymore but I thought you were one of the good ones. I hope you know that you make me fore more ashamed and embarrassed of myself than you think of me. I want you to know that you are the reason for my pain Rn. I want you to know that I think twice about every action and every word I say because of you. I know I’m not enough for you and clearly never was. I’ve tried my hardest and forgiven you for things other people wouldn’t. I’m sick of feeling these things because of what you say and what you think of me. I’ve done all I could do but it still wasn’t even so I am done trying, done everything. If you want to fix things then that’s all on you because I am no longer going to. the way you treat me and more importantly what you think of me. It’s hard enough dealing with my own negative thoughts about myself without you having other shit to say behind my back. I thought I was more important that the petty bullshit that comes out of your mouth. I’m over everything and I hope you see this and change but unfortunately I don’t think you will. I love you but now have come to terms that I’m nothing more than a friend who you use when it is convenient for you. I would almost feel betrayed but somehow I knew this was coming. You’ll forget about me, I know that. You treat me like shit knowing that I will always come back but not this time. Just know you’ve hurt me in more ways than one and this time it will either be different or I can’t live on like this. I hope you change, I hope you realise and I hope you treat me better. I care about you but don’t want your friendship if it continues like this. I am speaking to you right now as if nothing is wrong but it is. You don’t understand how insecure, disgusted, worthless and self conscious of myself and the way I look and the way I act you have caused m to feel. I simply cannot trust another word out of your mouth. I hope you know that you’ve truely hurt me deep this time. I was told things that really hurt and they especially hurt by you. Thanks for everything “best friend”.
hey, i wanted to ask this for a while and i searched lots and i never found a proper answer, so basically the girl i love has anorexia , its quite serious and no matter how much she sometimes reaches with recovery whenever she sees her weight up she’d freak out and goes back to giving up and wanting to die. i realllly want to help her, she gets treatment and all but they are pushing her so much and i know its too much and i want to tell her that she needs to recover without me pushing her more. how can i ? i love her so much to accept what she’s doing i cant just sit and look. i understand how she feels but its not right,, im really scared for her
Well I guess you could say I don’t entirely understand my past. I got abused by my mother had bully’s as friends and well I was scared. Now I have ptsd ,panic attacks daily, and cry everyday. But more of the problem is that I have a lot of false memories ,probably to cope with reality, I can’t tell the difference between life and dreams most days. That causes problems. Losing a pen causes a mental breakdown because I can’t understand what is real. I can’t put up with it. I want to die. I don’t want to cut myself. I have before ,but what I crave is a stab in the stomach. Every day it hurts every single day. Aching from sadness. I am just so tired and I just want to go to sleep.
I know its dumb but no one ever talks about this. as for me i am a religious person somehow and i dont need to mention my religion, but the thing is allll religions viewed suicide as a sin , as someone disobeying and taking away life, and i do understand that so very much but ,, what if one wants to die so so so much . its very sad to see one fighting themselves like this, for me i hate myself more because i want to die then wish to die more, isnt that stupid and pathetic. what is this way of living? i tried to kill myself once but to be honest ill never be brave enough and ill live in this misery of mind and it hurts it hurts so much how everyday is a struggle. i want to be dead.
it feels gloomy and everyone is sad. you cannot mention being sad anymore cuz everyone wants to die and it sucks way too much. why are we all so sad? and the thing is when someone i care about tells me they want to die i understand them way too much that i cant convince them not to. same with ana my lover and one of my great friends have it and they dont want to recover and i absolutely get them. but they cant stay like this. wheres the magic recipe to fix this broken world.
People don’t really get it. It’s easy for me to put a smile on my face and tell people I’m fine. It just feels like hell dragging myself out of bed to do it. I get stuck in a situation of ‘no, I haven’t left my bed in four days, haven’t showered or eaten a decent meal but yes I’m fine, can’t you see the smile on my face?’ Lying is easy. Recently I feel completely unmotivated, numb, bored, tired and solitary. In fact, pretending to be OK is the only real relief. At least then I can feel like I’m worth something, others can believe I’m successful, driven and determined, when I haven’t been that in weeks.
People get confused by that though. They expect the façade to have dropped a month ago when morning’s became the real nightmare, or a month before that when I began to self-harm again. They expect failed attempts to smile through tears, public displays of despair. They don’t expect the sudden announcement that I don’t want to continue anymore.
I know I’m living a contradiction. I wake up with the promise I can eventually go back to sleep. I sit through class unable to concentrate and counting down the singular minutes until the bell rings. I talk to my friends in the hope that I’ll find something genuinely funny and sound a convincing laugh. The internal effort no one sees and now I’m scared I’ll piss people off when they see the cracks. I’ve led people on. Given them a false sense of security, a trust in my well being, permission to believe in me. I gave the impression I was on the other side, they’ve placed their bets, but I’ve been secretly losing the battle and now their investment in me has gone to waste.
I tell them, I don’t want to talk to anybody, see my friends or get out of bed. It seems hypocritical then when I go out to parties, or friends houses and have a good time because I’ve taken six shots. I don’t want to talk to anybody, see my friends or get out of bed, but I realise that I need people around me, I need to do my schoolwork and I need to appear fine… and so I must do it anyway. For, how many days can I hibernate before people forget my existence? But would it really be such a bad thing?
I survived. The iron didn’t kill me, just made me ill. I texted all my friends to let them know I survived to their relief. Everything seemed to be okay afterwards.
Then, there’s today. I mean, yesterday was terrible because my father’s dog is seriously ill and had diarrhea. Since its in the house, it had a lot of crap everywhere that required a lot of cleaning and time. I was also sick after my attempt so that was added to the mess.
But, at least no one was fighting each other.
Today was a nightmare from hell. My father was pissy, I couldn’t stop crying, my mother was getting berated by my father about the dog (he loves the dog more than us but that’s not saying much.) It was a typical day, but for some reason, I couldn’t hold back the waterworks. I sobbed and sobbed like a baby. I wanted to punch something. My father’s made all of our lives a living hell, but when I speak up, I get silenced. Why?
Honestly, I wished the attempt work. I love and will miss my friends but I can’t take it anymore. I’m thinking of running into the woods near my house with my extension cord and hanging from a tree somewhere late at night.
I really want to end it all. I’m ready to die.
Every day is terrible, but today really pushed me over the edge. I can’t take it anymore. I’m going to try ODing on my iron pills and finally dying. I hope my family disposes of my body and not leave it there to rot because they’re some horrible people, I tell you. All rotten, all abusive, all evil people.
So, goodbye. This 18 year old is finally breaking free. No more nerve pain, no more mental illness, no more abuse. Nothing. Hopefully I’ll finally be successful this time. I can only pray.
so i tried because i was so tired and i couldnt care less about anything else, i dont give a fuck weather anyone would be sad or mad, i texted goodbye two friends and wrote the rest letters, one tried to stop me but i told them this is what has to be done. so after cutting many stupid cuts on my stupid leg i looked at my arm and got too weak to cut it open so i opened the pill bottle and ate it all. i was already dizzy from blood loss and fainted on the bathroom floor. a tiny while later i woke up and puked it all and cried so much why does this happen to me. i then threw my body on my bed and fainted again immediately and sadly i woke up again and cried more. why can’t it work why can’t i just die.
Last night i had a party at my house with a few friends. I tried to get all my coworkers and friends there, and luckily for me most of them showed up. I kept bringing it up and reminding people that it’ll be my last outting. The last time I will really be out or see people. What they didn’t know was i was planning to kill myself after they left.
The party was fun. Lots of drinks and lots of laughter, so when everyone left I originally thought i was just over reacting. Until i tried to actually fall asleep. All i kept thinking bout was my ex wife and my daughter. How i’ll never be able to see them again. Or at least not as much as i want to. Kept thinking about how much happier she was without me, and how well she was doing with everything. I kept thinking about how my daughter is already forgetting me, and that she might be better off without me around. Might as well remove my self from her life before she gets too attached. I kept thinking about how i already lost my car due to financial issues, and how the house i’m trying to rent out while im in Korea is in foreclosure. I lost so much in such a short time, and it’s all because of my own actions.
I recently had gotten prescribed hydrocodone pills for a burn i had not too long ago. I took the rest i had, in hopes i wouldn’t wake up. I’m just done and tired of all of this pressure i have to face alone. It’s suffocating me. I woke up this morning and felt even worse. Like i couldn’t do anything in life right, not even kill myself. I ordered more pills, but they haven’t come in yet. I don’t want to continue. I can’t handle this.
I’ve heard a lot of people make the statement that they were born in the wrong time. As if that’s something to be proud of. I didn’t used to get annoyed with these people haughtily proclaiming their belonging to a different era, at least not when I was a teen. But now, it pisses me off to no end. Because I now feel that every day of my fucking life.
I’ve only been an adult for three years now, and already I’ve come across a major problem in my biological code. To put it bluntly, I’m inherently backward, I have an innate fear of change, and to make matters worse, I’m entirely self-aware of it. All this puts me at a distinct disadvantage in life. Life only moves forward. Society and culture move with it. It never stops for anyone. Some people can deal with that, relish in it even. Those people are the people we read about in history books. The people who are now seen as heroes of our time, changing the world for the betterment of everyone.
Where do I fit in? Well, I don’t.
Because everyone is capable of moving with the times but me. I’ve realized that during my time studying in woman’s history, that I fit into all the things that those woman have tried to purge from society. Passive, weak-willed, pathetic. Backward. I realize that history only remembers the revolutionaries. The people willing to push the boundaries. That’s not what I am.
And its not just with history, either. Everything political going on around me feels to foreign and uncomfortable, everyone might as well be speaking a different language. Like trying to fit a square peg in the round hole, but there wasn’t even a hole to begin with. Just a place where the hole should be. My ideals, in the grand scheme of things, are bullshit. I’ll only drag everyone down. I know this, as I’m already dragging myself down. I can’t relate too most people in my age group, I can’t relate to most people. I can’t relate to anyone. I’m only going through the motions, playing pretend, acting as if I’m just like everyone else.
I guess maybe it’s not the case that I was born in the wrong time, but I was born incomplete. My function to move forward with the rest of the world, to “get with the times” is stripped from me. I’m not moving at all. I’m a literal statue, a relic from a time and place that probably never existed in the first place. I don’t understand myself, my ideals, my place in a world that’s moving far too fast for me to keep up. I just want to die. I just want to just fade away like a piece of history. Something that doesn’t belong in the world anymore because everyone has just moved on. I don’t to be remembered, I don’t want to be missed, because my being here was a crime against the nature in the first place. I feel gross. I feel sick of myself. I just want to go the way of the dinosaurs and stop fighting to find my place in a foreign world.
And honestly, I’d rather not live my life watching everyone else move forward and I only stay in the same goddamn spot, until I’m a crochety old woman that everyone around me wishes would just die already. I’d love to just be able to leave everything and everyone behind. To just isolate myself on an island somewhere, with nothing around by myself. No one to compare myself to, no one to watch pass me by. All alone, I don’t have to hate myself. I can just pretend, in this isolation, I’m the only one here. Living in my own stagnant corner of time. But that’s just a fantasy.
I’d like to think I have a lot of decent qualities, but one thing I’d like to change about myself more than anything is my painful inability to communicate well. I’m terrible at articulating myself and having conversations, and it’s extremely frustrating. I can’t help wondering what went wrong during the time I was developing into an adult, but it’s my biggest insecurity and I feel so bad about it. I don’t think I’m fun to be around because I’m so socially awkward and I think it’s at least part of the reason the person I’m interested in doesn’t feel the same.