I’m fucking 19 years old and every god forsaken thing is happening to me, i cant seem to find a way out of this fucking life i just need a way to get away from it all, i wanna just like fucking die just leave every body, everything, every fucking bitter memory cause fact of the matter is i am a bitter memory. iI’ nothing more then that white stuff on the side of your mouth when you’re thirsty just give me a fucking good way to kill myself and leave behind this bitter world so so people wont have to see me again, wont have to remember my fucking existence!!
When i read suicide stories online. I allways read reactions like, don’t worry, one day everything will get better. It will all be allright. You might feel sad at the moment but your future will get brighter.
Well, stop lying, it’s not going to happen. I take my pills daily, pills to reduce my depression but also pills to reduce my pain. My nerves are damaged and i have chronical pain.
It’s going on for 2 years now, and no. It won’t get better, it won’t restore, i’ve lost all hope.
I shouldn’t even be drinking with my medication, but i do. I drink even more then my friends, especially when i feel depressed. When i drink i can’t control myself, it might get out of hand.
Suicide has been in my head multiple times now. A year ago i’ve told myself that if the pain won’t reduce and i have to go trough this nightmare any longer, i would put my life to an end.
I just don’t have the balls to do it, or i would be death allready. I’m afraid of what will happen when i die. I tell myself everyday that i wish i had some kind of button that would shut down my body,
so i instantly die and don’t have to worry about anything.
The worst part is to act happy, and when people ask me how i’m doing i tell them i’m fine, but i’m not.
I wish someone could just hug me, comfort me. Lie next to me and cry together. I feel worse every day.
Also, i’m 19 years old.
My name is Sarah and I am 19 years old. Since the day I formed human attraction I knew I was in a world of trouble. When I was nine years old I developed my first crush on a girl, knowing it was not socially acceptable I ignored it. I had always been a more masculine kid, preferred riding dirt bikes and rolling in the mud over pretty pink dresses. Although my family had always supported me as an individual they still leaned towards the norm. I was still forced into those pretty pink dresses as a kid. In my early teens I hit a complete identity crisis, I tried so hard to ignore my homosexual and gender queer tendencies. I dated boys and dressed in a more feminine manner to impress my peers and family members. But there came a point and time were my false identity began to wear on me. I began to fall into a deep state of depression and started acting out when I was fourteen. I started self mutilating and attempted suicide on multiple occasions. As a result of this behavior I was hospitalized multiple times and was put on a heavy dose of psychiatric medications. A year passed since I had been “stabilized” and when I was fifteen I realized that the source of my depression was the homosexuality I had been ignoring for years. Although when I came out I could be myself, I never anticipated the further psychological and social consequences. Only a portion of my family was supportive, and that does not include the masculine image. I was bullied all throughout high school and was encouraged to change some of my masculine ways by my own family. In present time things are starting to go down hill again. On top of dealing with my homosexual issues, the medication I was put on as a result of dealing with those issues is getting in the way of my career. I want to get involved with the military but they insist I must be off the medication that is almost impossible to get off of because of its psychological affects. Sometimes I wish I would have never been born a lesbian so I wouldn’t have to go through life on a daily basis getting picked on and being restricted by medication I was put on because the corrupt ways of society made me have mental issues. I feel like I am stuck and I cant move forward with what I want in life because of these issues. Suicide has been an idea in my mind lately. I’m questioning if I wanted to live life a restricted homosexual. I also question how many other members of the LBGT community are also in this situation.
My name is Christiane and I am 20 years old. This is my story.
My mom and dad had been fighting badly the past few years. They had been married 19 years but were together for 22 years. We lived in Florida as the only blood family around. All our family lived in California. My dad would get angry with my mom and fly her there when he thought he was done with her. This was about the third or fourth time it happened and during this last time my mom was in California, my dad took his own life.
On April 11, 2013 I came home after a long day of running errands. I lived up the street from my dad and brother, my mom in California at the time. They both came over that same night and my dad made my brother, my boyfriend, and I dinner. When it was time to eat everyone sat down to eat but me. I joined them half way through.
My dad cleaned up and was being very quiet. I knew he had been depressed. He talked to me about it everyday. He would even come over and just cry because he loved and missed my mom so much but he believed she had become someone else.
Once he cleaned up he tried to walk out the back door without us all noticing and I saw him. I asked him if he was leaving and he said yeah. I believe I said, “Ok, I love you.” With a few more words involved. I knew he wasn’t ok but I just didn’t think too much of it. That would be the last time I saw my dad alive.
They next day I was at work and my phone had gone dead. My dad was supposed to pick me up at 2pm and I had tried calling him from my works’ phone. Finally my brother answered. I told him what time I needed to be picked up and he just said ok.
At 2pm my brother showed up to get me. He’s currently 17 years old. He looked at me worried and said he had some bad news. I asked him what was wrong and he said that he didn’t know where dad was. I didn’t think it at first but it was in the back of my mind. My brother told me there was a note saying he was sorry and pillows under his blankets in his bed. (The pillows were so if anyone tried to check on him the night before they would think he was asleep in bed and wouldn’t check)
It was almost an hour long drive to get home from my work and the whole time felt agonizingly slow. I kept trying to think where would he have gone without the car. I was praying so much of the drive that he was okay. I was so worried I wouldn’t find him alive. My brother wasn’t thinking about my dad already being dead, and just kept talking to me about where he would have gone to with only $135 in his pocket. We pulled up to my dads door shop which doubled as an apartment for my dad and brother. Behind the shop was 7 acres of land, half of it covered with trees.
When we pulled up to the shop I felt anxious and sick. I immediately looked at the note my brother found and saw the pillows in his bed. I looked around the shop a little more, all the while scared I’d turn a corner and he’d be dead. Finally I looked at the back door to the acres behind the house. I didn’t want to go out there, but I knew I had no choice somehow. There were a lot of trees and you couldn’t see far into it.
I stood staring for a moment before I stood up straight and walked forward. I could see something white out there a ways. I kept walking and as I got closer I could see more than just something white. I knew when I saw something white out there, he was out there.
For those of you who can’t handle graphic descriptions I’m just letting you know now.
I got close enough to see him sitting cross legged under a tree with his head down. His body was being held up because he had his hands to his face (I believe he was praying because despite the fact he committed a sin most call the unforgivable sin, he was a VERY Christian man) so his head was downward but off the ground about a foot and a half. I never saw his face. There was no gun shot, not rope or cord, just him. I knew he’d taken pills at that moment. I remember thinking “dad no…” With a feeling of being too late to help him. He was a light blue color across his shoulders, he had no shirt on, and when I got close enough I saw flies jump off him. I knew he was dead right away as it was obvious it had been a while.
I turned and ran at that point. I remember everything I saw even though it was just for a second because as soon as I saw him when I walked out there I took off running the other way. I didn’t call for my brother at first because I didn’t want him to run outside and risk him seeing.
I screamed for my brother once I reached the door, trying to think of how to tell him. My split second and panicked thinking made me decide I didn’t want to sit him down and tell him slowly. I just said it. “Dads dead!” I didn’t want him to think there was any chance he wasn’t and get his hopes up in any way just to tear them down. I knew it wasn’t the right way to tell him, but I was just too shaken to make a rational decision.
My brother broke down screaming and crying. I still hadn’t cried or truly freaked out other than feeling very shaken and hot. I kept telling myself I couldn’t break right now because my brother needed me. I paced around a lot and was having a hard time trying to think of what to do next.
I made my brother stay in the same room as me and I finally realized I needed to call the police. I dialed 911 and when they answered I choked. I managed to tell them my dad committed suicide and he was dead. I had hard time figuring out our address and once I did they asked me a series of questions. They asked if he could be resuscitated and I said I didn’t think so.
Once I got off the phone with the cops I felt like I needed to go back out there.
I looked at my brother who couldn’t stop bawling and told him to stay right there and not move or follow me. I then headed back out to where my dad was.
This was the hardest walk of my life. I had to go out there and make complete sure there was nothing I could do and that he was truly dead. I approached him and he was sitting on a blanket I didn’t notice before. I put two fingers on his left shoulder to feel if he was cold. He wasn’t cold, but he was stiff. The hot day had kept his skin warm. His skin looked fake and was turning blue. His hair didn’t look alive and dark but grey and dead as well. I didn’t look at his body for more than 1-2 seconds before I looked away and at his surroundings instead. On the ground in front of him was his cigarettes, my mom’s pink lighter, and a little flashlight. Against the tree to his left was a bottle of peppermint schnapps that wasn’t even finished. There was an eighth of a large bottle left. My dad sat between two trees and up against one tree was a picture frame 20×20 of Jesus looking over Jeruselem. Against the other tree was a white sign 12×12 that read, “ru in the book of life”. That white sign is what I had been able to see when I first went out there.
I grabbed his cigarettes, lighter, and flash light and went back to the shop. I don’t know why I grabbed those things, I think I was scared I wouldn’t get to have something of him. I really don’t know why I did. I wasn’t there with him for more than a minute before I went back to my brother and he just wasn’t okay. I wanted so badly to sit and comfort him but he just screamed at me whenever I tried to tell him it would be okay. He would yell, “It’s not okay! Dad’s f***ing dead!” The medics arrived and I walked them to the path to where he was and pointed them in his direction. I told them I wasn’t going any further, I didn’t think I could handle seeing him again.
I needed to get a hold of my mom, and that was so hard. She was at work and her phone was off. I emailed her to call me immediately and she said she’d go pay her phone bill and call me. I still hadn’t told her. I was trying to get a hold of someone in her family to make sure she wouldn’t be alone when I told her and finally got through to my aunt, her sister through her work in a bank. At the same moment I was telling my aunt what happened, my mom walked into her bank to get money for her phone bill. My aunt told my mom I was on the phone and that it was about Rick (my dad) She said he wasn’t ok. I can’t remember much of the conversation, but I remember her thinking it was a sick joke at first and I screamed at her saying, “No Mom! He’s dead! Can you hear the medics truck?!” She didn’t think it was a joke for more than a second and then she got quiet. She handed the phone back over to my aunt and I don’t remember anything on the phone from there.
A few officers arrived as well and my brother and I had answered so many questions so many times. They finally let us leave to my house which was just up the street and said they’d call when they needed me to come back down. When we drove off we would pass by the woods and while I was pretty sure you couldn’t see anything from the street I looked at my brother and said, “Look at me right now and do not look away.” He did and I was so relieved he wasn’t going to try and look.
They were there for two hours before they finally removed his body. They had caution tape out in the woods from what I could see. They called me and I drove over to answer a few more questions. They gave me a brown paper bag with the things my dad had in his pockets. His wallet, necklace (which he was wearing) his money and loose change, and another lighter that was red.
I went home and just sat and stared. I cried off and on. I didn’t know what to think. I was so very close with my dad and I felt, not like it was my fault, but that I wished I could have talked to him first. I even started thinking I wish I could have sat with him while he died. I made dozens of calls to family members. Heard many people cry and give their best to us, while others were too shocked to speak.
The verdict for my dad was that he had gone out to the woods the night before, the blankets a decoy in case my brother wanted to check on him. The cops found my dad’s bag of medications, as he was on a lot of things for health, and a bottle of muscleÂ relaxers that had just been filled with approximately 40-60 pills was empty. Time of death was guessed to be after midnight making his date of death April 12, 2013. It bothers me that on April 11 he did it, and on April 12 he passed away. For me I have two days to mourn (or as my dad used to say) or celebrate his passing.
My mom flew out shortly to help take care of things. We had him cremated and before we did, we had a chance to see him. At first I didn’t want to see him because I wanted my last sight of him when I found him to be the last. Despite the sad and sick way I found him he looked peaceful. There was no blood or anything horrifying on that level, and I think that’s why I’m not too haunted by the image.
I am not mad at my father. I battle depression and have attempted myself though I never will again. I don’t by any means whatsoever think what my dad did was the right thing, but I understand the pain you feel when you don’t know what to do or where to go. Please don’t comment on this in regards to my attempt or my depression. I really want the focus on this story.
I have dealt with this very strongly as my dad once told me do not cry over him when he dies one day. Some people say I should just let it go and cry, but honestly I find comfort in thinking I can be strong for him. I’m not holding it in by any means, it’s no battle not to cry, it’s as if I was given the strength to stay strong. Some days I do cry, but it’s only for a moment and I usually end up chuckling to myself, look up and think, “Really dad? I miss you.” Because I can just hear him telling me to suck it up and keep on going. That it’s all something to learn from.
I believe my dad was bipolar. I’m truly not sure. He had many health problems and his body wasÂ beginning to shut down from working his whole life in hard labor.
I miss him everyday and I try to base my days off making him proud if it’s possible he is watching me.
Today is May 22, 2013. My name is Christiane Long and I lost my dad, Richard Harold Long on April 12, 2013 when he took his own life.
I apologise for following such beautiful song lyrics from The Hunger Games with such a negative post.. but I feel this encapsulates the way I’m feeling exactly.
Let me take you on a journey. 19 years ago, my Mother began to emotionally and sometimes physically abuse me over the course of my life. In my eyes, I never had a Mother. I never grew up being nurtured and receiving that maternal, unconditional love. 4 years ago, my Mother physically ‘bashed me up’, in need of a better statement. I left her immediately, I left my little siblings, my friends, comfort, my school, I left EVERYTHING that I knew and had come to love. I lost a part of myself that day, a part that I have never been able to get back. It has taken 4 arduous years and many attempts at reconciling with her to finally have made some progress. But every time I look into her eyes, I feel all those horrible things rush over me like they did 4 years ago. Nothing will ever be the same again. The nightmares will never stop.
But 4 years ago, I got together with the most wonderful guy I’ve ever met. My soul mate, my better half. We have such a deep connection that could never be replicated; a once in a life time thing. He has been my sole source of love and support over this difficult time in my life, and unfortunately, has been on the receiving end of a lot of my depression symptoms. I have put him through hell and back, yet he still stuck by me. It was only 6 months ago when I decided it was enough – I HAD to seek help and I HAD to get better, so I could be happy again, so I could be the best person I could be for myself and for him. I wouldn’t let myself ruin his happiness any longer with my own depression.
I put it off though. We broke up, I tried to convince him to move on, I tried to fill the gap with other boys, but I could never actually bring myself to physically be with someone else. Just a few weekends ago, he kissed one of my ‘friends’. He danced with her at a club. This all must sound so ridiculous to you, but to have the love of my life be with one of my friends.. it just killed me. Well, it almost did. That very night, I was so intoxicated, I decided that wandering around the streets until 6AM was the best course of action. I could be murdered maybe. I ended up going home, unharmed, and cried. I cried and cried, that’s all I did for 3 days. I’d had enough, so I bought some sedatives and strongly considered ODing. I took 4 at a time, making me dead to the world, making me feel so out of it. That was enough to pull me through, until he reentered my life.
He apologised profusely and expressed his deepest regrets, and I couldn’t take it anymore – I NEEDED him back. I would not risk losing him again, I was so close to. So we became involved again, and I started to see a counsellor. We agreed not to get back together ‘officially’ until I was better. This agreement we had, seeing each other exclusively but not actually being together, was confusing but enough to keep me living.
It was just last night that he reiterated how he didn’t want to get back together. I suppose I had an ulterior motive all along; I thought that being with me again would make him realise that that’s the way we should be. But I was wrong. He wants his freedom, he doesn’t want to be with me, the very true love I found is not as true as I thought. He doesn’t want me. I want him. What to do.
I’m planning on starving myself. When feeling depressed, my hunger is always the first thing to go; I’ve gone about 5 days at the most without eating. I feel that I could easily go through with it. I have Googled about it and found a lot of evidence to support that it won’t be the most painful thing in the world.
He is not the only reason I no longer want to be here. It’s the fact that I feel like I am living for NOTHING. I hate university, I don’t have a job because I’m way too afraid to get one, and I can’t stand being rejected any more; the only actual thing I live for now is my cat. I am serious. I think my cat is the only reason I’m still here. That is how empty my life is. I have nothing.
I have become desensitised to suicide. I have had these thoughts so, so often; researched so many methods, that it’s just something I’ve been putting off for a while. I do not know if there is an afterlife, but I don’t really believe in it – I’m sure I’ll just fade off into nothingness. And that is marginally better than just living this half-life and waiting to die.
May 8, 2013
Today is the day that the (I guess you can call it “my”) story is written.
Now i’m 19 years old. My body a nest for scars and memories that should have been long forgotten. Not all scars have stayed with me, and i hope that one day i’ll be free from them all. The sad reality of it is that some of those scars will never leave my skin, and always be a reminder of what i have done. It’s been mere days shy of 6 months without cutting myself for the relief that i have so desperately wanted during this time. The tendencies that cause me to cut have been strong recently, and “cutting instinct” is facing off against a brain that knows it can go without.
To tell the story we can’t just say at this time period so we must go back to the beginning and start from there.
I cut intentionally for the first time. It was in the shower by sliding a disposable razor across the curve of my wrist. The damage was very small, but got the blood flowing enough to show me how easy it was to cause a small amount of blood to my call.
I was in a state of mind that aided cutting as a relief. I had nothing to cut with though. Then i remembered the old disposable razors that were littering the shower shelf, and i thought one definitive thought. “These have small razor blades in them”. Staring at a encased blade i began prying it apart with my fingers. Tools may have been helpful in this, but i needed to access them right now. I did in fact get the razors out after much work with my hands breaking the plastic holding them in place, and then i had 3 extra thin, extra short razor blades. I promptly put these to use, and cut 2 shallow lines one in my wrist and one in my thigh.
I began cutting around 2 inch long lines occasionally, but did so only on my thighs since the wrist cut earlier drew attention.
By this time my thighs had a few markings on them, but the cuts were so shallow that no long term scarsÂ occurred. I realized around this point that i had few friends in school, and started to focus on online games and school more. Many would think when i say “few friends” that i had 8 maybe 5 friends total, and you should probably think that. In reality i had a “couple” friends. Yes, i had 2 people who i considered my friends, and i’m not even sure they considered me a friend. I began loading up onÂ high schoolÂ classes next semester (first half of the year i took 5 credits), and no life-ingÂ video games. (currentlyÂ sophomoreÂ year- I took 13 credits as a freshmen) Note: Normal per year is 11 credits 5 one semester and 6 the next.
I was focused on the future intently. My vision was not of today or tomorrow. My vision was of afterÂ high school. This semester i took Â enough credits to finish the year with 14 total credits. The emptiness inside was starting to creep in slowly though. I resorted to video games even more than school work since i had very little to do that i couldn’t finish inside the classroom. During this time my parents were gone for 4 days during a time when i had Â school. I used this time toÂ achieveÂ 99 cooking on Runescape.
The math of this boils down to 42k fish/1.3k fish per hour = 32.3 hours. This means that i spent 32.3 hours of my time on this game in just over 4 days on one occasion (8 hours a day average+ 9 hour school day + food and hygiene and not a lot of time remains)
During this time i had less ambition to cut mainly due to staying so busy with other things, but the cuts started to pile up still. The cuts also got more defined as i got more comfortable with cutting.
Cutting became a normal thing to me. It was no longer anÂ occasionalÂ thing. It was casual, and felt like it was part of my routine. Cutting started to manifest in new ways as i was just comfortable with it. The word “ME” got carved into my thigh (stillÂ noticeableÂ if you know what your looking for). “LIE” and “LovE”also got put into my skin, but they did eventually heal all the way.
The cutting continues piled up in large amounts in areas threatening to overflow onto skin that is visible to the light. I decide that i will shuffle my cuts around when i do them allowing me to cut more place, but also making large rows of cuts a thing of the past. The word “PAIN” became printed on my upper thigh though cutting later becoming mostlyÂ unnoticeable.
I got stuck taking a slack foods class with one of my only 2 “friends”. By this time friend #1 was just using me he really hasn’t talked to me for a full year+ now since he doesn’t need my help. When i do hear from him it’s just to make his life easier, and this other friend in my foods class really didn’t give a rip about anyone, but himself. (one of those kids who think they are above laws, and they can do anything they want also). Up until this point i had almost no connection to girls at my high school (let’s face it almost no connection with anyone at all). One in particular i worked with often and we got along well though. Something seemed like it could maybe blossom out of this, but later she took a disliking to men as a whole (officially bi…i think?). She ended up calling a freshmen to the prom with her the class hour i was going to ask her to it…i was shocked. My friend #2 spent the rest of the hour telling me about his prom date, and asking me if i was going with anyone. I ended up chopping vegetables minutes from the end of class and decided to chop my finger also in this process. It was a fairly deep cut on my index finger and took close to 10 minutes to stop bleeding.
I was at the peak of my cutting. I could hide nearly anything, and always had viable excuses ready to go just in case of questioning. They were real things that could happen to make the excuses better. Scratched by a cat…HA, i think not! an example of a real excuse is a cut from carrying sheet metal. Words lightly cut into my skin so they wouldn’t scar littered my legs, and having all different meanings even the latin word “NEX” meaning death. Cuts were healing at the same rate i put them on myself meaning i didn’t increase or decrease my cutting for periods of time. The average cutting session consisted of anywhere from 3-20 cuts (6 maybe average).
I continued as normal my cutting routine, by this time i hadÂ acquired other cutting utensils, but didn’t use anything besides a utility knife blade or disposable razor blades (both options dull-ish i suppose)Â little did i know that the next month would be different.
This month started as any other had, and around the middle of the month i ended up carving “FML” Â in large letters into my thigh. 2 days later my parents would find my box of objects and throw them away(they were in a metalÂ AltoidsÂ tin that had long since expired) without any razors, and knowing how close i was to getting caught caused me to stop from then on out. Although i have stopped for nearly 6 months, the tension is building to start again-and i just might.
Feeling overwhelmed again and feel that crazy need to DO something; so I am going to write as honestly as I can in hope of clearing my head and maybe helping others to not feel so alone..
I am 19 years old, going to a community college in hopes of learning everything I can about computers and eventually getting a PhD. (programming and hacking take me to a different place, a place where I am extremely intrigued and life actually seems interesting because there is so much to it.)Â Normally I just get tired of waking up to the same routine everyday, not so much that I need to kill myself, but to the point where I have almost tried every modern anti-depressant with no luck and have suicidal thoughts often enough to realize something is not right.Â My parents recently got divorced which doesn’t bother me thaaat much, but what really hurts is my ex-girlfriend was forced to leave her home by her parents to go to college in a different state.Â When my parents got divorced she helped me through it; helped me process all the feelings and emotions.Â She also just had a way of always smiling and enjoying life that somehow sparked and interested me in life.Â When she left for college we promised each other all these things that in love young people would generally say when they are about to be split up.Â She left and I was forced to move up north to a small quite town with my mom to further pursue education and get away from my unhealthy father. (Only reason I lived with my dad was because I was with her and her family ALL the time and really felt loved by them)
Sooo I slipped into a deep depression and MY ANXIETY surfaced after she left.Â My anxiety caused panic attacks about everyday which would cause me to hyperventilate and freak out the neighbors by running as fast as I can around the neighborhood at 3am…Â They really make you feel like you are going to die.Â I have always lied about the cause of my anxiety and I am going to type it now.. When she left I started having intense anxiety of her having sex with other guys.Â (we were planning on getting married and were saving actual intercourse for marriage as we were both raised in religious families.)Â Now I realize this is probably typical for a decent amount of the population, but for me it is an extreme cause of embarrassment.Â To be honest, I was brought up in a STRICT religious family that said sex was wrong outside of marriage.Â I always have this constant battle; I REALLY want to have sex with the girl I’m dating vs. I need to wait for my future wife, and if I do, my relationship with my future wife will be more special and my God will love me more.Â Soo I guess what I am trying to say is I fear that I am going to end up with a girl that I cant feel as emotionally close with because she looks down on me for not having much sexual experience?Â I cant pin point the exact anxiety cause but that’s my best guess.Â I feel like such a loser just typing this.. everything I have grown up aside from my close family tells me to go have sex with as much girls as I can.. I just don’t want a bunch of meaningless sexual experiences in my head when I find the one I am truly meant to be with.Â I want it to be something intensely special.Â I wish I could pick one girl and just have her for life.Â Why do I feel like I could never tellÂ anyone that and still feel like a “real man” ?
Anyways, she could not take the long distance relationship (got depressed her self which KILLED me inside as I could not be there to love on her) and broke up with me, which was understandable but caused me to become suicidal because of the emotional pain it brought me.Â I have very low self esteem now and mostly just sit in my room reading books and books about computers.Â I try to go “party” but mostly end up that one guy who is not very talkative in the corner on some form of mind altering drug because he is shy and doesn’t no anyone in this new town! :(Â I try to work out and rock climb as often as possible but it is so hard with depression!Â What really sucks is it has been around 6 months since she left for college and I STILL feel horrible, I still feel dry inside.Â (My actual panic attacks have almost completely ceased, but I still feel that uneasy anxiety quite a lot.Â Still miss her deeply.)Â I am just tired of living.Â I was so deeply in love with this girl that not having her just seems pointless.Â I feel hurt that she wouldÂ break up with me and pursue other guys after we went so deeply down that “love rabbit hole”.Â I am tired of waking up everyday pushing myself so hard to get through the day and enjoy life, and more importantly pushing myself to hide the depression and especially hide the anxiety from everyone.Â I just feel SO alone.
I miss being able to lay on the couch with her and fall asleep in each others arms telling each other everything we fear, love, and hope for.Â I miss seeing her everyday, miss seeing her face brighten up when I would pull up in her drive way and she would rush down stairs to jump in my arms and passionately kiss me.Â I miss gardening with her mom and really feeling motherly love.Â I miss watching sports with her dad and feeling love from a father figure.Â I miss feeling apart of a healthy loving family.. I didn’t know what that was like.Â I know that there is a good chance I will meet another girl, but at this point I just don’t have the energy to care.Â I have dated enough girls recently.. I cant connect with them because I CANT be my self when I am using all my mental ability to hide this anxiety/depression..Â I just cant be myself as hard as I try.. I guess it all seems so fake?Â I am not exactly the most healthy person mentally right now, but I don’t want to be alone anymore.. I am so dry..I just cannot take it anymore.Â It is all dry.Â Suicide seems like such a nice easy way out.
I kinda made this profile because I wanted to tell someone my life story… And I don’t have anyone close to me that I want to share it with. So I am writing it here, anonymously.
But let’s take it from the beginning:
I’m a boy from Denmark, 19 years old at the moment, but that is not where my story starts. My story starts all the way back when I was a child. You see, I have always been bullied, first by the bigger kids in my kindergarten, then by the kids in my class in school. Therefore my parents quickly decided to teach me self defense. And it would have been the end of it, if the other kids didn’t outnumber me 10-to-1.
But as time went on, I suddenly didn’t care anymore. My parents tell me, now, when I talk to them that I became more and more vicious towards those weaker than me. But I didn’t feel anything. No hate, no love, no happiness, no sorrow, nothing at all. Only thing I respected was strength, the ability to lord over those weaker than yourself. And I slowly earned the fear of my classmates, when I one-by-one challenged them to fights and won.Â But as I stated earlier, this doesn’t help you against that many. So my parents decided to move away and find a new school. And all seemed good, for the first month, then the bullying started again.
Now by this time I was about 10-11 years old and of course I thought it was my own fault. So what did I do? I tried to commit suicide by jumping off the roof of the school. I ended up with a broken arm. I decided instead that I was going to seek proffessional help, as the school therapeut had just met with our class. And so I went to him and continued to have 3 weekly appointments with him for the next 3 years.
Now in denmark (I don’t know about the rest of the world, so going to explain.), we have a thing called Confirmation. (Kinda like the jewish Bar Mitzvah, but for protestants) We would all go to our respective churces for 1Â½ hour each week for lessons + we had to go to church on sunday atleast 10 times. I finally found my place, the place where I felt alive. It was later taken from me, but we’ll get to that. The priest was a man about the age of 50, but he had the energy to match the rest of us, a bunch of horny 13 year olds. He had enough Charisma to convince me to go to church, even after I had finished my Confirmation. But it still wasn’t enough to keep me from trying suicide again.
Too weeks prior to my 14th birthday, I tied a rope to the edge of my house and tied it around my neck. I was going to hang my self. But a well-timed phonecall from him, where I think he knew what was happening despite me trying to deceive him, convinced me that I had too much to live for. And I was happy for a while, or so I thought. According to my former friends and classmates, I became the most ruthless, cruel and evil person they had ever encountered. Using my former respect for strength and nothing else, I “found” a group of friends. In truth they were terrified of me, thinking I might have beaten them if they ignored or stood up against me. And I did, when one of them tried to tell me that I wasn’t invited into their group I assaulted him with a stick. And then I realised what I had become. I had become the very embodiment of what had been done to me. Of course this had the effect of convincing my bullies to leave me alone.
At the time, the only joy I found was with my girlfriend who I loved more than anything. Now she was 2 years older than me and, like me, still a virgin at the time. So when the time came for us to have sex for the first time, I enjoyed every minute of it. It wasn’t until three months later that I found out that she, from that day, had had sex with another guy, often. And so I broke up with her and was heartbroken, but determined(!). Determined not to let myself go down the pit of despair that I had lived in for so long.
But things don’t always go as we plan and I soon fell back into my old role as the tyrrant. Now despite this, I felt no hate for anybody. I felt no love for anybody. I felt nothing again. Nothing at all. Only thing I could feel was physical pain. And so I began getting into more and more fights.
This stage continued until I had turned 16. There I decided, once and for all, to end my suffering. And so I grabbed a kitchen knife, one day I was alone, and tried to slice my own throat. But for some reason I couldn’t get myself to do it. For some reason I kept thinking back to that priest. I still had his number, even though I had stopped going to church at the age of 15. So I called him up and told him everything. And what happened then, I cannot even begin to describe. It was like a burden had been lifted from my soul. He convinced me to go back to church, where I met my next girlfriend, whom I dated for a year and a half, untill she became too much and I left her. Since then I have not been able to get back to that church because of her.
But the thing is, I was okay with that, for I had my friends at the time. 3 months later I found anonther girlfriend, the polar opposite of my last one. And we dated for a year until I found out that she was cheating on me. Now the thing is, I haven’t gone back to my old self after we broke up, but I have neither had ANY emotions at all. I don’t laugh, I don’t cry. And I kinda like it this way.
But that is the story of my life so far and I hope that I will someday meet the woman who can give me back my happiness, but so far all I find is nothingness.
Now if you can relate to my story know this: I don’t care. I’m not here looking for someone to tell me what I should have done or what I could have done. I am here because I needed to get something off my chest. Which I have now. So farewell.
i finally found someone i could be happy with then i lost her, i don’t know if it was my fault or not but all i know is that i got too attached to her and now i feel so dead inside, i’ve been through so much already in the past 19 years such as verbal, physical and mental abuse and now i’m on medication that’s supposed to make me feel better but its only making things worse, i’ve never felt so alone and lost in my entire life like i do now if anybody reads this please help me i don’t know what to do anymore im on the edge of doing something i’ll regret :'(
It’s easy for me to give it and think that the world works against me. I’ve had 19 years of suffering in silence, . Day after day of constantÂ disappointment, negative feedback, anxiety, confusion, and isolation. These things have all contributed to my unhealthy belief system still deeply ingrained in my mind.Â
No I’m not retarted, in fact, over the years I’ve realized I’m quite intelligent. I just feel the world a whole lot more intensely, so much that it hurts, feelings are so strong that they’re harder to change, imagine being x10 times more sensitive to everything that goes on. I easily absorb peoples energy, My wounds take longer to heal. In this fast-moving world filled with distractions makes it very difficult to keep up with for the sensitive person. Everything can be going smooth one minute and one small hiccup can leave me paralyzed. People don’t realize how well adjusted to life they are, they take it for granted, I admit I am jealous. I’ve always wondered how they do it so effortlessly!
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I’ve had to make so many adaptions to myself fit in with societies standards, it has left me drained and thirsting for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.Â
I Am a slow learner only because Â I take things in and overanalyze them. My mind is a race track filled with so many feelings that it’s hard to make sense of them which lands me in the pit of confusion. Being a highly sensitive person is at the very least a huge burden, no, no, it is DEBILITATING beyond belief. You are constantly on guard just looking for ‘threats.” you’re never quite sure of yourself, you’re alwAys second guessing because you EXPECT to fail.Â
I can tell you what all this feels like, it feels like your balancing the world on your fingertips, like your always being waited on.and the world never sleeps. My difficulties are Â different Â than your average “difficulties”. I am struggling as a person , most are just struggling as a person with a problem that comes and goes, the difference is I’m stuck with mine, mine debilitates me from normal daily living. A person can’t continue on like this. They crack and soon comes a cry for help, Â time to stop pretending, out come the bottled up emotions, working up the courage to express your feelings. Feelings of relief come, Â then regret, if only I’d ask for help sooner, if only! Â then anger, why did this happen to me? I want to go back and change it! Why was I so weak? These are unhealthy feeling that I went through , today I have accepted myself and learnt to let go. Â I am in much better place now in comparison to a few years back, but I still struggle with bad feelings and perceptions and fitting in with the world. I need to stop comparing myself to others, I’ve developed slowly, i didn’t get theadvantage of “getting” the world so easily as just about everyone else, yes I know not everybody has their ducks all lined up in a row but it’s been pretty evident that things come easier for most. I’m not trying to bash anybody or feel sorry for myself I’m just trying to understand this world and myself. I’m doing this for me.Â
Being held back you learn to figure things out on your own. You become more aware of each puzzle piece and learn how they fit. You turn into a very independent person because you do things your own way that work for you. You may discover things that the average person would totally miss. You learn so much about yourself with your deep intricate thought pattern. Â Your confidence soon grows Because you Begin to understand the Rationale and how you should be entiteled to feel. Things that used to.upset you in the past baffle you now with your new healthier belief system, giving you a sense of accomplishment, how strong you are.You begin to appreciate the way you think and marvel at just how much potential you have and so may others. You are touched. You feel born again.Â
Maybe this little sensitivity to this silly messed up world is not as much of a burden as it is a gift. : }
I don’t quite understand why it feels so much easier to write about my problems then to say them out loud I suppose it’s like my thoughts are my own little secret I mean that’s what your mind is for right? A space where you can detach yourself from reality if only for a few moments and go somewhere.. be it a memory or completely make up.. But no amount of day dreaming will save me from myself, Let me start off by saying I am now 19 years old to be 20 in August and have suffered from clinical depression for 4 years, I have attempted suicide twice and twice landed me in hospital. I don’t really know when it all started exactly.. all I know is that I can’t hide from myself..my life..my past..my mistakes, Your meant to be aloud to make mistakes so that you can learn and better yourself.. it’s all about growing up they’d say.. but what if in your own mind your mistakes.. your past are the worst and no one understands or no other compares.. IÂ speechÂ so much of how life is precious to others and yet don’t take my own advise, My Dad had moved us out of our home to start “a new” so he said little did we know he had a motive then it came out after we had moved, moved away from family and friends.. It doesn’t sound big but moving at 11 years old is a stressful situation I hated the place we moved to so much.. I had 2 friends well atleast I thought at the time and I wasÂ severelyÂ bullied in school, His main motive was to leave My mother me and my 2 sisters for another woman but not just any woman my mothers best friend whom we all knew .. her kids played with us and we went on holidays together so inevitably they got a divorce, so we were homeless for 6 months because we had spent all our money on this “new life”then we finally moved back home and I started Secondary school which would be my second level education like highschool or anything else And once again I was bullied in school but I got over that.. I felt strong for some reason my mind set at the time was “I won’t let them hurt me because no one can hate me as much as I hate me” so I coped never trusting anyone because whenever I did I was the one who got hurt, So I started messing around with the wrong crowd and started to smoke weed and hash nothing to major and I stopped after an unfortunate accident where I smoked to much and fell of a ruin of a castle and split my head open, I was raped when I was 15 by my boyfriend and I know what your thinking .. Its not rape he was your boyfriend..no this was rape.. he was 18 and I was 15 and I still can’t get into details about this it still makes me feel uncomfortable but at the age I was I never said anything I was so scared and I thought no one would believe me I started thinking it was my fault.. I did something.. I started doing bad things I started to see my best friends boyfriend behind her back and always denied anything and I never once felt guilty because I thought “look at her she has everything she wont miss him, he is mine” but that was so silly and childish I finally came clean to her and she now has a baby with this man and weÂ haven’tÂ spoken since,my friends when I was growing up were so cruel to me but then again I deserved it because I had done some horrible things so even though these things made me cry I suffered because I felt it was my punishment.. and I felt that wasnt enough so I started cutting myself, I needed to hurt myself more for many things at this time I was 16 and I just couldn’t handle my life I went into a spiral or thoughts and thoughts “It’s my fault I was raped” “It’s my fault my parents split up Im just like my mams best friend” “I deserve to be bullied because im worthless” “It’s my fault I have no friends I dont deserve them anyway” Eventually the cutting wasn’t enough.. I had grown numb to its sharp pain.. But I still had to punish myself for what I had done and then one day it happened.. and I dont even know how it’s like I blacked out and dont remember doing anything (I’m not mentioning the method I used for safety reasons)Â The next thing I knew I was Â being asked questions but I convinced everyone it was an accident and it wont happen again it was just an accident and for awhile I started to believe my own lie.. sure why wouldnt i? Â I had no memory of doing such a thing so I convinced myself itÂ WASÂ an accident.. and for awhile I felt ok I really did.. I started to not feel so numb inside and started not putting on a face to act happy It was genuine atleast I think and I had met someone.. someone I had once again stole from one of my so called friends and I was in that same mindset of “no you can’t have him you have to much he is mine” and i slipped into a pattern but I felt ok with this guy he made me forget how miserable I was for just a bit he made me believe not everyone us going to hurt me and then it happened .. in the park with my boyfriend and my other friend I knew from school ..And I would mess with my friend while we walked around and started playing on the swings in the playground in the park but he didnt like the attention I was giving my friend and when I didnt answer him he grabbed my neck and pushed me against a swing bar with my friend yelling out “jesus christ” and everyone in the park looking at us.. I didnt think there was anything wrong and I said it was accident .. he never said sorry but the again he didnt need to I had already said it for him really… me and him broke up anyway and once again I felt like it was my fault that im not pretty enough or I talked to someone or I looked at someone so feeling as low as I was feeling It was nothing compared to when my Nanny died my nanny who I had adored.. she had suffered from tongue cancer and after cemo and radiation and an operation to remove half her tongue she said no more so.. she died and when the funeral came around since it was my dads mother me my mother and my 2 sisters were ignored at the funeral and treated like we never knew her… my dad never said anything to me because he had found out I was smoking, he loved saying to me “Your nanny just died of cancer from smoking and you start” he would tell me to stop but who was he to tell me what to do? he had givenup his parental right on me since he decided to commitÂ adultery, so after my nanny died I began to slip back into a familiar feeling.. I didn’t start cutting this time.. no I had a plan this time.. my mother would be away for a week in Bulgeria for her yearly trip with her sisters and it would just be me, one of my sisters and my nanny on my mothers side.. so once againÂ Â I was in hospital but I remembered everything this time.. well not everything I remember the ambulance I remember being on a monitor .. I remember being put on a bad but it was more than I remembered that time .. this time they knew it wasn’t an accident and kept me in the hospital for 2 weeks .. I hated it I felt like a prisoner I was put on suicide watch .. I was so angry! all I could think of “who do these people think they are? just because your a specialist in this subject I wont talk to you” then I met this woman..I still remember her face but not her name.. she spoke to me like a person .. not a patient that had escaped a mentalÂ institution I wanted to tell her everything but was scared still they would not believe me .. but I bit the bullet and talked ..
(This is started to really get long I will explain more in Part 2)
In a nutshell: 23 years old, No job, never been in a serious relationship, living with my sibling who I can tell doesn’t want me to be here much longer. No money, no car, and since graduating and moving to a new city, no friends. I do EVERYTHING alone. I eat alone, I go out alone, I work out alone. Student loan payments will have to be made soon. Rent, car payments, a multitude of other bills with no job are coming. This isn’t what it was supposed to be like. By this point in my life I was supposed to be starting a new career and making money, spending time with the love of my life. At least, that’s what I had always assumed it was going to be like. You never should compare yourself to someone else. But when I look at the people I knew in highschool and college on Facebook – they are all successful and starting their families.
I wrote a similar thread to this when I was 19 years old, titled Eternally Single: never had a girlfriend, which can be found by googling Eternally Single. I remember writing that late one night, kind of laughing thinking surely, I would find someone in college. I wrote that thinking I would look back in a few years and laugh at myself for being a negative little punk. But things haven’t changed. They in fact have gotten much more serious, in a bad way. I’m sure that I will be working two part time jobs in the near future, at Wal-Mart or somewhere else to pay my bills. What a life to look forward to. I know I’m crying and being a baby, but I have to vent somehow, right?
Advice from my life, if your are interested:
To anyone reading this who is considering going to college: DO NOT listen to the people who tell you to follow your dream major, that the jobs will be there when you graduate. That is a lie. Do NOT major in something like film or art, unless you are very, VERY, very gifted. You will be doing yourself a disservice. My major, wildlife science, or essentially biology with a focus on animals, was a joke. The jobs are all seasonal and the pay is awful. And on top of that, after working a little bit in the field I realized I didn’t want to do that. I shot myself in the foot. Major in something that you can tolerate that will have job opportunities after graduation. Don’t make my mistake. Learn from me. The people who say they hate their jobs, at least they are making money. What I would give for a job that even paid $30,000 a year… What I would give to hold a girl and know that she was mine and I was hers… What I would give…Â Instead I find myself writing on a suicide forum.Â How did it come to this?Â How did I get here, researching the best ways to end it?Â How do any of us take a path in life that eventually leads us to a suicide forum?Â Whether you believe in God or not, I pray for all of you who take the time to read this post.Â I wish you the best in your endeavors and that, unlike me, you will find your path in life.Â That you are able to solve your problems without having to put a gun in your mouth.Â Good luck to you, sincerely.Â No one should have to feel like this, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.
I don’t feel like proof-reading this. Sorry if there are any errors or unclear ideas in this text.
I’m suicidal. I’ve wanted to end my life for several years, though I’m only 19 years old. I’ve been institutionalized twice, but I only had a short recovery after both. The medication they gave me stopped working, but things got drastically worse when I stopped taking them. Now I’m back on anti-depressants and mild neuroleptica. They worked wonders for about a week, but now I’ve gradually become more and more depressed and chaotic (in my mind).
Why is it like this? Why am I so fricking depressed all the time? Is it my own fault? Could I stop it? There are too many questions in my head and few answers. All I know is that I don’t really have any will to live. I’ve got things I like about life, sure; I like to sing, listen to music, play video games, you name it. But this isn’t enough to keep me from drowning in my own thoughts. I’m too weak. The world is to overwhelming.
I’ve been diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder depressive type. Once. What I mean by “once” is that, when I got out of the hospital the second time, the doctors didn’t view me as psychotic at all. I’ve talked to several psychiatrists and different people of the medical community, but I always get mixed answers. Some say I sound psychotic, some say I don’t. I don’t know what to believe. A part of me wants this diagnosis, then I can finally say I have an excuse, something to explain to others when they see me cry. Without the diagnosis, I’m just me. Where is my excuse then? People say my depression is enough, or that I don’t need an excuse, but I feel like I need something to stand behind, something that will hide me. It would be easier that way. I’ve had enough of being me.
If someone asks me “why are you suicidal?”, I wouldn’t know what to say. I want to ask them “well, why are you not?”. I know that death is the final stage and that my conciousness will be dead and gone once my heart stops beating and my brain shuts down. I will be gone forever. All I have is now. And yet I want to throw it all away. Why? Isn’t that a bit strange? Well, once you feel as wothless, as cowardly, as useless and stupid as I do now, anything else would be weird. I don’t deserve to live. My friends always viewed me as the useless and stupid one. They didn’t tease me directly about it, but I know they talked behind my back. They always implied things, too. This is also a part of why I want to take my life: revenge. I want them to suffer like I have. I want them to reconsider the way they treated me. I want to see them cry. “Oh, [my name], what have we done?”. Ok, I won’t see anything if I’m six feet under or sitting in an urn, but that’s not the point. I want their suffering.
Yes, I do carry a lot of anger. I want to hurt and kill others, but I know that would be a greater loss to the world than if I were to kill myself first. I might give birth to a doctor or an engineer if I’m so lucky that I find someone who will actually find me attractive, but that doesn’t help me. What will I do in life? Why am I important? That’s exactly it; I’m not important at all. Mybe my family would shed a few tears once I’m gone, but… so what? I know I’m selfish for thinking like this. “God’s sake, woman, don’t you think about the ones who love you?” I do. They keep me from actually killing myself, all because of guilt. Yet want to be able to swallow my feelings to end this pain. Yes, I’m a selfish *****. That’s part of why I hate myself.
People can read my thoughts. I’m constantly under surveillance. Or at least, that’s what it feels like 24/7. I know these are delusions, but they are so overwhelming that I can’t ignore them. If I have a thought or an idea, it’s not mine. It’s like I’m always screaming at the world even though I want to be silent. Everyone knows how stupid I am. Everyone knows my faults.
I might call a suicide hotline tonight. I doubt I’ll take my life, though I have considered it for several days in a row now. I will probably feel like this for a while, and who knows, maybe my life will end by my hand in the end?
i am 19 years old, I live with mom, my sister studies abroad and my father is rarely home. I have good parents, i know they love me and i know that i love them too. but, i have no idea why every time i’m around my family, especially my mom, i always get pissed, and i’m always angry all the time for no reason. i think a part of me feels that it is kind of my family’s fault because we’re not like a normal family, we don’t go out together, i’m not close with my father and every time i talk with my mom, both of us would just start arguing. due to my behavior, i’m starting to think that my parents are beginning to hate me, i get compared to my sister because she talks a lot and is interactive around my parents even though she doesn’t have a perfect relationship with my mom either. i don’t have anyone, i have friends but i still often feel alone, i’ve never had a boyfriend and sometimes i get jealous of other people’s relationships, their relationships with their boyfriends/girlfriends and their relationships with their families, especially just seeing how happy most of them are with their families and how close they are with their families. it seems extremely difficult to fix my relationship with my parents. i feel like i have no one in this world, that i have no purpose to live anymore and that no one will miss my existence when i am finally gone. who wants to live like this? i know i don’t….
I don’t understand why I’m here anymore. No one wants me around, so what’s the point?
It all started when I was 2 years old. My dad was an alcoholic. He used to put his hands on me and beat me for crying, talking or playing loudly. This continued for years. When I was 13, my dad let his friend pay him to rape me, and he did. A few weeks later, another friend did tried to do the same, onlyÂ I got him to stop.
I began to cut myself. My father’s drinking problem got worse. My dad began cheating on my mother with her sister that lived with us. They now have 2 kids together. My father would put his hands on those kids and my little brother, and I would step in between and take the hits. It began getting so bad, my mom would call the police. They did nothing about it. My mother didn’t always know what was going on, she worked 12 hour shifts everyday.Â The verbal and physical abuse kept getting worse. There would be times I would lay there unconsious for hours and no one would do a thing. I began lieing to all of my friends about my bruises and cuts.
My aunt Debbie was someone who was always there to take the pain away. The only person I felt would protect me from my father. She died of lung cancer in 2008. I felt so alone.
When I turned 16, on my birthday, my dad did the same. Bashed my head into the wall and kicked me everywhere he could while I was ont the ground. I moved out and stayed with my aunt for a while. I finally told my mom about the rape. My father lied to my mother and told her I let them touch me for drugs. I never touched a drug in my life. My mother began to watch how my dad treated us. My dad’s attention began more focused on my mother and his problems. My mother knew he was cheating on her. Me and my aunt would get into many physical fights over my mother. She was the only person every there for me, of course I was going to protect her. I moved back into my house to do so.
Things started dieing down and I thought things were going to get better. I even met a guy who treated me like a princess. I ended up getting pregnant. I was 5 1/2 months pregnant when I let my other friend drive my car, he went 110 down a curvy road and we wrecked. I lost my baby. I spent a week and a half in the hospital having a d&c procedure. Also, to take care of the internal bleeding in my kidney. No one came to see me except my mother. I layed there alone.
I had a close friend named zach. I thought everything was fine with him until one night, I got a phone call saying he had commited suicide. I wished it was me instead of him. I began cutting again. A few weeks later, my friend Chloe stabbed herself right infront of me while I was at her house. She had been raped and her boyfriend left her. She didn’t want to live anymore.
Me and my boyfriend stayed together, but we started arguing alot. He began to put his hands on me, constantly throw things at me, in my own house where I let him stay. I ended up going back to school after a month. I saw multipul facebook posts and comments from girls talking about how it’s a miracle I lost my baby, that I would have been a horrible mother anyway. I ended up getting expelled from school. I was a honor roll student preparing to go to Ohio State University.
My life began falling apart. I had no friends, no family. I never felt so alone. I finally left my boyfriend.
I got a new job to try and change my life around. It didn’t help that I already felt so depressed, so worthless. I tried to overdose on sleeping pills atleast 6 times. I tried hanging myself. So many things, but none of them worked. So I turned hard into pills and smoking marijuana. It became an everyday thing. I worked just to spend my money on drugs.Â I became someone I never wanted to be, a complete total heartless *****.
One of my friends ended up getting me put on probation for trying to fight her after she stabbed me in the back. Probation has ruined my life even more. My father finally moved out, but tension with my mother and aunt still increased. I fought my aunt 3 more times and caught a few assult charges ontop of my harrassment charges. Then I began sticking to my drugs as a way away from reality. I would let my friends push me around, just so I was never alone. I tried hard drugs I never though before about trying. I gave up everything I had left, just to go out and party with everyone and get high.
My mother kicked my father out, but things were still going downhill for us. She tried suicide, I cried myself to sleep everyday wishing I could take her pain away. I can’t lose my mother, she’s all I have left.
I ended up getting pulled over and caught with marijuana and pipes and getting arrested and charged. I went to jail for a little while. I got out less than a month ago, and I’ve been sober ever since. I promised my mom I wouldn’t do anymore drugs because she didn’t wanna see me on the path I was on anymore. But giving up drugs when you’ve been dependent on them for years, is extremely hard. No one understands me it feels like. Everyone around me leaves. I tried to focus more on myself, but it doesn’t work.
My “family” isn’t supportive except for my mother, who’s not around much because she’s always in her room crying to herself everynight praying to god she won’t wake up the next day. I still have to watch my aunt play the innocent secret wife with my dad. She’s at his house everyday. Coming between my father and brother, just like she did to me.
I’ve never felt so alone in my life.Â I tried to forgive myÂ father, but he told me I was dead to him. ThatÂ he never wanted me in the first place. I was a mistake to him.Â More and more of my friends began leaving me, last nightÂ I took alot of sleeping pills, and nothing happened. I never felt so worthless in my life.
Today, my own Uncle beat the shit out of me. I have marks all over my face. And for what? I wish I knew. I guess no one in this family wants me. Everyone just sat there and watched him to it, when I screamed and begged for help.
I never mentioned the small things in my life that just pile ontop of these. I never tell many people about what happened to me. One personÂ I thought I could trust, turned on me. I feel likeÂ I have no one. I don’t want to go to counceling because why would I need to tell anyone all of these things so they can tell me everything’s going to be okay, when I know they won’t. I don’t know why I’m here anymore, and I don’t want to be. I wish someone understood.
More than anything, I wish I knew what it was like to feel wanted. I’m tired of pretending to be happy. I want a normal life. I wanna smile, and not know I’m breaking on the inside. I hate waking up in the morning. I hate not being able to trust anyone and have a real relationship with someone. I’m scared of this life. I’m scared of losing everything again. I’m scared of whatÂ I might do. I hate myself.Â I want this pain to go away. And I don’t wanna hurt anyone anymore, especially my mother and the people around me who try to care about me.
Since this whimsy little Domino can’t think for himself.
All remember my ‘Razor Sharp’ True Story? Basically, it’s about my cousin Hailey and my Dad purposely pissing me off by giving me headaches with smoking their pot/weed. Well, recently I figured out Hailey’s age; 19 years old. Can that change my chances of getting them arrested if I called the cops on them?
Also, Next True Story will be out by tonight.
Well long story short I come from a family that has made their own wealth through a private business of helping children with learning disorders. Love my family of two brothers, three sisters, and mom and dad.
The name is Gabe 19 years old. I’ve always felt like i have tried to do the right thing. Be polite, treat others nicely.Junior year of high school 2009 Â i just slipped into a huge depression sprial. Â Always kinda felt i wasn’t physically fit enough, felt guilty for how others perceived me. Â Never felt like i was there for who i thought was my friends. Always struggled in school but felt angry with the ease others had. Went from 220 lbs to 180 in a month… At the end of the month i had my first cigarette. Got rid of all the worthlessness and pain. Better yet i could regulate how i feel by just simply smoking a cigarette. Was a virgin to that point and always thought a relationship would be great. I had relationships before but realized they were more like obsessions. Love never was my drug… Thought my parents had a loving and good relationship but turns out my mom cheated on my dad three years before i was born. To make things better on a guy family vacation i end up losing my virginity to a woman who went to dinner with us one night. Asked her if she was involved with my dad. “I want to say no, but that wouldn’t be honest”. I don’t know if i can forgive myself for that one. Couldn’t tell the women in my family. They would think i’m scum and i felt like i had become part of what my father was doing to my mom. I detached myself emotionally. Felt confused, couldn’t comprehend. I know that it was my falut. I had a gut feeling that woman was involved with him and i disregarded that feeling. Â I was drunk and i have only slept with one other girl in my life (also drunk). Felt sexually inadequate andÂ embarrassed.Â Â Â My parents are great generous people but inside of them there is this unhappiness… i feel like people just fill their lives with drugs or love or get consumed by their jobs. I know that someday i won’t stand for it anymore. How can anyone… it doesn’t make sense. I feels great to be there for people but at the end of the day we all gotta go through death alone. People may miss me or whoever but life goes on… just like every other day. Smoking cigarettes and eating unhealthy is a slower suicide. Â I don’t know how to want to stop smoking and eating unhealthy. If i quit smoking i go back into that terrible dark place.. sometimes still do even with smoking. Â I get angry andÂ overwhelmed with my selfishness, weaknesses, and faults. It sucks me in and I don’t know how to stop it. Trading Cigarettes forÂ PrescriptionÂ medication doesn’t mean anything but being more socially accepted to me.Â Â One day i just feel this thing called life Â is going to consume me and leave behind something wicked for those close to me. I don’t want them to go through that pain… but at the same time i would just want them to get over it. No one body is that important it feels like and everybody has their life to live and family to feed and relationships to be had. Â Â I don’t know where to go now
Hello to whoever is reading this. My name is Brooke and I am 19 years old. This is my very first blog in my life, not quite sure what I am doing. I wanted to start just because I am going through a rough time right now in my life and I want people to hear my story.
I want to talk to everyone about suicide. Suicide is the third leading cause of death between 15-24 year olds. Nearly 30,000 Americans take their own lives every year. An average of one person dies by suicide every 16.2 minutes. Crazy right? What causes people do do this? It is a question that will always be unanswered. Something we will never understand. Depression plays the biggest part in suicide along with drugs. I know this because my best friend hung herself two weeks ago, 10/03/12, Courtney<3. A part of my heart is now missing, she is so greatly missed. I can not describe the feelings that go through me all the time. There are so many questions I don’t have an answer for. Everyone asks me “Why would she do this?” My answer from all I know is that she had a lot going on in her life, between her parents, her boyfriend, where she was living, and just all the stresses in life. I also get asked all the time “Well what was so possibly bad?” All I can say is you don’t understand. No one can judge unless they have hit rock bottom and know exactly what kind of feelings she felt. It is the worst pain anyone can feel. When someone commits suicide it puts the family, friends and everyone in the same position you were in. Its not worth it.
I think it is so crazy how close you can be to someone but you have no idea what kind of thoughts are going their head. Courtney was such a bubbly, outgoing, crazy girl. No one would have ever guessed she was so depressed. I new things were bad with her. She tried committing suicide a couple weeks ago but luckily they caught her in time. She was then put into the psych ward and was on suicide watch, they let her go because she wasn’t a “threat” to herself or to anyone else. HELLO, she just tried killing herself! Thats obviously a cry for help. At the time if I would have known what was going on I would have asked her to see a counsler. We hung out like a week after she tried doing that, it was a Friday. September 28th to be exact, last time I saw her. It was our high school homecoming football game and we decided to go to that. I went to pick her up at her dads and we were just hanging out in her room that they put together for her in the basement. She looked so different to me, just so sad. I didnt think anything of it. So we are talking and then she tells me about her attempt, I start crying and I hugged her and the only thing she said to me was “Dude its fine, i’m still here”. She vents to me about everything going on in her life and she seemed to be doing better. We went for a little drive and then went to the game and pigged out on snacks and ran into old friends we haven’t seen in a while. After the game we drove around for about an hour just talking about our lives. Dropped her off and went home.
Sunday and Monday we were talking and she kept nagging to hang out, I worked both days I was tired and didn’t wanna do anything. I pushed her off.. maybe I was what she needed.. maybe if I was there she would still be here. But that is no way to think.Tuesday afternoon her boyfriend posted something really mean on facebook “I have the biggest piece of shit girlfriend, so glad I don’t have to deal with her anymore” a couple hours later they found her in her dads basement. At first I thought her boyfriend was what pushed her over the edge..so I was mad at him. Then I realized there is no one to blame, and I can’t be the one to say what caused it. The last thing I ever said to her was “what”. I read what her boyfriend put and I texted her saying “whats with Andrews status” she replied with “who liked it” and I said “what”. Most pointless conversation I think we have ever had.
Tuesday night I get a phone call around 10:15 p.m. One of my good friends called me and said “Wheres Courtney” my heart dropped, I new something wasn’t right. I called her phone and her dad’s girlfriend answer and she was crying. I met the ambulance a couple miles away from my house, I just new she wasn’t alive. I get a phone call about 10:45 p.m. saying she hung herself. I was speechless. They ended up sending her to ICU, they revived her and she had a very weak pulse. Waiting..waiting and waiting for hours, I get another call around 3 a.m, she has no brain activity. By now i’m in shock and don’t know what to feel. They had her on life support, that was the only thing keeping her alive. They unhooked her Wednesday night. A part of me left with her.
Sunday night they had a prayer service and Monday was the funeral. Worst two days in my entire life. She had an open casket and when I went up to see her I was waiting for a just kidding and for her to pop up. I wish someone would have told me if you are not ready to see her dont’ go up there. I competely lost it. At the funeral, there was so so so many people there. So much support for her family. I did fine until they wheeleed her out of the church, I could barely breath. I have never cried like that. The burial I could not make myself go up and say goodbye. I didn’t want to because I didn’t want to believe my best friend was going 6 feet under the ground.
She was only 20 years old, she was so full of life. I don’t really know what went wrong and that is something only God will know. Some of my best memories are with her. I hope she died knowing people did love her and I hope people will remember her the way I will and not just some girl who hung herself. I love her so much. It has made such an impact on my life, and I would never want someone to go through something like this. It is so hard getting out of bed in the morning and putting on a smile when all I really want to do is cry and sleep. I know one day it will get easier, I know one day it won’t hurt like hell. But I can’t wait for that day. I wish I would have said more I love you’s and been there more than I was. Maybe I could have saved her. I miss her so very much, there isn’t a second during the day that she doesn’t cross my mind.
With this post I just want to say.To everyone out there, always know that you are loved. Always know there is someone who will always be there for you. Make sure to tell the ones you care about that you love them. You never know when there last day might be. Always remember even on your worst days there is someone to brighten your day. If you ever feel like its not worth it anymore, it is. Life is so precious, it’s what you make out of it that makes it so great. You may be having a hard time in your life but things will get better. Don’t take the easy way out because it puts people exactly where you were. I wish I would have said more I love you’s and been there more than I was. Live with no regrets an always remember to smile. Because life is worth living. I wish someone would have told Courtney that. If anyone ever feels they don’t have absoutely anyone, I am a great listner.
my name is is melody. i am 19 years old. ever since i was a small girl, everyone talked about how cute i was and how far i was honna go. about how extremely intelligent and talented i was. and i really was. i was an amazing writer, i won so many awards, i was a great cheerleader, amazing artist and track runner. i was a class clown. everyone really did love me. but what people didn’t know is that after school, i came home to a horrible household and was bullied every second that i was there. how much of a piece of shit i was and how my family would call me a whore because i was always tryin to get away from this house so i didn’t have to hear them put me down. but to them apparently i was going out and having sex with everyone. no one at school would believe me if i said i thought of suicide almost everyday. i cut myself and i have came close to dying a couple of times for cutting so deep. idk why i cut. it’s just that when i cut, my mind is just suddenly for a split second glad thatink not thinking about what my family calls me. i make myself believe what they say is true andwhen i cut, it’s like watching all of that disgust and nasty whore and piece of shit and how i am nothing to anyone. all that is drained out of my body andink something new. just for that split second. i am a new clean person with no poison inside of me Â but then i snap back to reality and realize that i am just making a new ugly scar on my arm thats going to heal one day but the scar will always be there andills always be reminded of the moment i did it
That night…tall grass bathed in moonlight. The stars sparkle brightly as the North Pole’s breath travels down to where we are and dances across your cheek. Tall grass and white flowers..in thatÂ place Â next to theÂ brook and that wise old tree. We would stretch out between the roots under the spot where you carved our initials when we were young. The place where we fell in love, where you first tried to kiss me and I pulled away and ran as you chased me until i tripped over a secret root and you fell on top of me. Dear God we were only 13 and 14 years old…shy, but youÂ kissed the bruise instead. I remember when we were 15 and 16 when we had that fight…the one that ruined everything. I told you I had to leave..that it wasnt my fault and you wouldnt bare it. You hit the old wise tree and injured your hand inches away from my head. I was frightened..so I proceeded to walk away and you chased me and put your hands to my face, blood dripped down my neck and i remember those words. “stay…please…stay…. with me” I thought i caught glimpse of a tear before you hung your head at my response. You brushed past me and walked away.
Though i see you often now with your girlfriend, I always remember seeing the broad shirtless shoulders of a boy who truly loved me. I remember letting you walk away thinking I wasnt going to be able to see you again..so when i came back 6 months later and you had a new girlfriend, I decided that I didnt want to live. I left you to take care of my grandmother and when she died anyway, i felt like a failure. I had lost the last thingÂ I had good in my life. and now at 19 years old my feelings havent changed…im still in love with you. Being in love with you hurts more than the pain of living without you. To die would be a sweet dream..where i could fall into the blackness and dream about what could have been forever. A life that consists of nothing more or less than you being…with me.