Taken from Robert Crumb’s Plunge Into The Depths Of Despair (1983)
And if anyone wants these comic strips in a PDF form:
I’m 16 years old and I’m considering suicide. My life is so useless I’m nothing but a leeche that sucks off my mother and fathers hard working cash. everytime I try to look at my sister to say hi she looks at me as if I was a creep . My own brother calls me a fatty and never stops saying it but he’s right. I’m addicted to gaming and this has led to my bad grades and I could never make my mom and dad proud. I’m so lazy and a waste of space this is all my fault I’m obese and I have never had a girl friend befor I’m such a loser I think I would be doing my whole family a favor if I was just gone and then my mom and dad and sister and brother would just not worry about me in the world.
I am a 20 year old female attending university within my home town. I honestly feel lost within my own life. I am a waste of space. I do not know how to cook, terrible at cleaning, and struggle to manage a workload in school that others would find easy. I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder and anxiety disorder. I was never social as a child; I can’t go up to someone and start a conversation. I had a happy childhood, up to a point. Our home has come under disrepair within the past decade or so. I love my parents, at least I believe that I do. But have I truly felt that love for them? Expressed it enough? Those are questions that I’ve never been able to find the answers to.
I’ve always done things at my own pace , but I never really reached out. I’ve never really felt motivated to life at least a semblance of my own life. I have interests, but they are very bland and vague. I have friends, but they are acquaintances at best
I’ve attempted suicide in last few years, overdosed on a handful of medications. But the likelihood of myself succeeding is extremely slim, isn’t it?
One may wonder why I have written this post; I am not certain myself. All I know is that I don’t want well-adjusted, hard working taxpayers to finance my mistakes. Might as well let my parents utilize my life insurance policy and get it over with.
As i lay i count the amount of scars on my body. My broken cut ridden scarred body…
I start counting, and only count what is still visible after months to years of time for the wounds to heal. My scars all have a story of their own, and all signify a problem, feeling of hopelessness and lost cause, emotionless, a perfect day in hiding.
I count 10…54…71… 84 well that’s it for those that are visible in my shorts and cut off T-shirt. Most of them aren’t visible and overlap so it’s impossible to get an accurate count of them the ones that i have hidden on my thighs. So, i count… 12…51…122…212, and a 3 inch patch which is heavily covered and recovered with cuts in all different directions on my right thigh. On the left thigh besides noticeable cuts is a scar from a few cuts that spell out “FML” Â and indeed with that scar my life is…
Scars on the outside of that region are not noticed from even a short distance by most, but the ones scarred spelling is surely noticeable to any who see it. Â A girlfriend? unlikely i’ll keep one of those if they see that, and worse do you hide it from them? No…you hide it from everyone at all costs, and live alone your life however long that may be even if it’s only a matter of time until you succumb to life– a dauntless task.
Just another battle I’m going through in my head. My head and my heart don’t know what they want…I’m tired of all the pain. Please God don’t let me wake up tomorrow. I just don’t know what to do anymore. Just take me out of this world and give my life to someone else who deserves it. I’m tired of living. I’m just in bad shape. 🙁
I had forgotten how much that film resonated with me when it first came out; how I cried and cried because of the loss, the tragedy, the helplessness, the irresolute – albeit hopeful – ending. Â The words still resonate with me today, now, even while contemplating my own will to exist:
“…We both had done the math.
Kelly added it all up…and knew she had to let me go.
I added it up, and knew that I’d…I’d lost her…’cause I was never going to get off that island. I was going to die there…totally alone…I mean, I was going to get sick, or get injured or something…
The only choice I had, the only thing I could CONTROL was when, and how and where that was going to happen. So… I made a rope; and I went up to the summit to hang myself. I had to test it…you know? of course…you know me. Â And the weight of the log, snapped the limb of the tree, so I-I – , I couldn’t even kill myself the way I wanted to. I had power over *NOTHING*.
And that’s when this feeling came over me like a warm blanket. I knew… somehow…that I had to stay alive. Somehow. I had to keep breathing. Even though there was no reason to hope. And all my logic said that I would never see this place again. So that’s what I did. I stayed alive. I kept breathing.
And one day, that logic was proven all wrong because the tide…came in, and gave me a sail. And now here I am, I’m back, in Memphis, talking to you, I have ice in my glass… And I’ve lost her all over again.
I’m so sad that I don’t have Kelly; but I’m so grateful that she was with me on that island.
And I know what I have to do now.
I gotta keep breathing.
Because tomorrow, the sun will rise. Who knows what the tide could bring?”
WHO CARES I DON’T UNDERSTAND!
Why do I come to this God damn website searching for a little hope? Why do I do this to myself? Why can’t I just be happy what is the fucking point? Why can’t I just move on with my life. I care. I care so much. But do they care? Do my friends and family really care? Does my boyfriend really care? Or is this some fucking pity thing? HA. My boyfriend. What a wonderful guy. He’s so up fucking beat, and I am so off beat. What is wrong with me? It seems almost as if I can no longer feel anything but pain. I want to understand!!! WHY CAN’T I FIND ANY ANSWERS?! All I find is more fucking questions. I cry and I cry but I feel like no pain is being released. I scream and I shout but no anger has left me. Where did I go wrong. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?! When will I forget all that has happened when will I get to be happy? I try, I really do. But my best isn’t fucking good enough! THIS ISN’T HELPING! I WAS HOPING THIS WOULD HELP ITS NOT. I don’t want to die. But I don’t want to live. I am scared. I hate who I am, who I was. I am nothing. Worthless. Stupid. Blasphemous. Wrong. I… SUCK. Sometimes I wonder if when I was born, God knew he made his first mistake….. Fuck this fuck this FUCK THIS. I can’t take it. Nothing. I have nothing left to lose.
It’s already over.