This morning I found myself clutching my wrist. There was a bag of razors in the bathroom, my dad was watchin tv, it wouldn’t have been hard to just end it all right there. I dont want to kill myself, I want to be killed. I pray for someone to just run me over, to get my kidnapped by terrorists and shot in the head. I want someone to just do me a favor. Am I being selfish for wanting to leave my family? Do people on this earth really need me or am I just flattering myself? I just dont know anymore. I give up…
I told myself I wouldn’t let the self-harm get out of hand.. But it has. I started off only cutting 2-3 times a week, but now… I’ll cut countless times all on my body… My wrist, my ankle, my thigh, my stomach, everywhere… I don’t know how to control it anymore.. /-\
I take one glance at my wrist and see the thin bluish, greenish web-like veins
The urge to open them up today is to strong
To feel the high hot warmth of blood drip and then then rush down my wrists contaminating whatever it lands on.
To feel the sharp jabs of needles that causes my eyes to water and for me to go momentarily blind.
I pray for an eternal silence.
been a long time since i have suicidal thoughts going on through my mind . it seems like getting stronger each day . the scars on my wrist are getting deeper and deeper each day . and each day , I’m hating myself even more . every day i questioned myself why am i even alive . i just wished i can be died . be dead by losing a lot of blood or even eating a lot of pills so i overdosed . my life couldn’t get any worser . why am i alive . why is my life like this . i just want to be dead than continue living .
I had to write an essay for one of my teachers and I don’t know what I was thinking when I wrote about my suicide thoughts and my scars. And so now my whole family knows and they are giving me all of the attention, and now I have to go to a therapist. I hate all of the attention, and I hate that now I have a therapist. I hate talking about how I’m feeling to someone face to face. That’s why I talk here, I can talk to all of you and you won’t know who I am what I look like, and that we might never actually meet for you to help me. But when I have a therapist it’s exactly what I don’t like. I would think of suicide almost 4-5 times a week, but now that I have a therapist I think about it even more. This website has helped me more than my therapist. I have made a lot of progress with this website to write. I used to cut my wrist 3 times a week, now I cut myself once every two or three weeks. Now I feel like when I cutting myself all over again. But I can’t because my family knows. They are crying for me, they are watching everything I do now, I’m not allowed to be in a room alone only my bedroom and the bathroom. It’s so unfair, I thought that saying what’s on my mind would make things better, but the only thing I did was make myself more suicidal. I should have just kept my mouth shut. (By the way the essay that I wrote is on here and it’s called Suicidal Stories #1)
Haven’t been here in a while. Things got better for a while but somehow i’m the same again. I feel so lifeless. Found something temporarily for my hurt but when that’s not enough, I’m not sure what I will turn to. I’ve been feeling down lately, feel like i don’t want to live anymore. I’ve turn to cutting to ease my pain, holds me about a day or so. First it was just my wrist then I’ve move to my face. It’s a bit uncomfortable because people always watch me like what happen to me. They often ask if someone is beating me. I work in a supermarket, so my scars are visible to everybody. I don’t know what to do because cutting is the only thing that keeps me relax. Weird but that’s how I feel. I really wish things would get better for me. I cry most of the time to fall asleep. My life is really broken. 23 years of life and I’m sorry to say that I hate it. Surprisingly, I’m still here because I have a son. Don’t want to break his heart like mine is broken.
So, I am being kicked out of my house at a bad point in time and honestly i do not see a very good future for me, and i guess ive given up, im about to be homeless and id rather kill myself than be homeless. Ive spent the past 2 hours looking up painless ways to doe, there arent really any which kinda sucks, i dont have a gun i might just get super high and cut my wrist up to my forearm. i hope i wont feel it too much, i wish i could just end it right now intantly, i would be so relieved of everything. I am only typing this because i want to say something to anyone before i die that will listen. still i wont even check this before i kill myself. I have been pretty suicidal all throughout life i just never vocalized it to anyone i just, cannot escape this feeling of relief.
…I haven’t posted in a while, and that’s becouse I’ve been trying to be happy and stay happy. But why do I always end up at the starting point, feeling worthless and tired? This deppression suffocates me, it’s not letting go. Sharp knife rests on my wrist begging to slice it open! I know I shouldn’t do it. Trying to restrain myself….but it feels so good! The pain is addictive, the blood is beautiful! I’m afraid of what people will think of me if I tell them how I feel. Will they think I’m weird and insane? Am I weird? Am I insane?
Now that summer is coming I’m going to have to start wearing short sleeves so at one point I’m either going to have to tell my parents or they will find out about the scars that I have made on my wrist. I want to tell them that I have been doing it to myself but I don’t know how to tell them, and when I do tell them they are going to tell my whole family. And if my whole family find out they are going to start asking me questions all the time, and watching everything I do. It will make me even more suicidal because then it’s like I’m a kid again, I can do things on my own, if I need your help I will ask but for my scars on my wrist I’m not asking for help, I’m asking you to let me be. I’m pretty sure they would rather see the cuts on my wrist everyday other than never seeing me again. If they want me to be alive they have to let me cut myself, the cutting really helps me.
So here is my question for you, how should I tell my parents about this without everything becoming extremely serious?
I hate my cutting scars so much. I have really horrible ones of my wrist since I cut myself really deep, so deep that I cut really sick from blood loss and had to stay in bed for like two days and it keep re-opening even after a month. I don’t usually cut myself on my wrists, but I didn’t I was going to live long enough for it to matter. I also have many raised scars on my hips which are much easier to hide. Usually I cover the ones on my wrist with a bandage so that no one can see them and I don’t have to wear long sleeves because in spring and summer it gets very hot where O live, except at work I always wear long sleeves.
It’s getting increasingly harder to hide them and come up with excuses for constantly bandaging my wrist. I’m so worried about future job not hiring me because of them and I know they will never completely heal and it’s very apparent what they’re from. I live in a very conservative place where mental illness is not accepted and people are very judgmental. I’m afraid if I ever have kids then I will have to explain it to them. I can’t ever stay at friend’s houses. I can’t ever go swimming again and I love swimming and going to the lake. I’m constantly worried about people seeing my scars. My family has seen them so I don’t have to cover them at home. There’s also this guy that I’ve been talking to that I really like, but I know I can never date him because I couldn’t hide my scars from him and I know no one where I live could ever accept my scars. I’m 20 years old and honestly one day I’d like to have a boyfriend and to have sex again, since I didn’t have these scars with my last boyfriend. All of my friends want me to go out with them and have fun and to go one dates and meet guys, but I’m so uncomfortable and afraid someone will see them. They are stopping me from living my life and it’s making me so miserable. I think part of it is that they’re such an awful reminder of what I was feeling when I did that to myself and somehow if anyone saw them it would be very traumatic. I showed them to one friend because she went to a mental hospital and attempted suicide and I supported her through it, but afterwards she stopped being my friend.
I’ve tried many things to make them better, I’ve exfoliated them and used lemon juice, vitamin E oil, Mederma, Scar Guard, and other things. They are too bad to be covered by makeup. I know they will never heal completely though and causes me so much shame and hurt. Sometimes I sit here and stare at them for long periods of time. My advice to everyone, don’t cut the scars aren’t worth it, I can never be comfortable publicly, I can’t ever get close to friends or have a boyfriend and I’ll have to hide them for the rest of my life.
My parents don’t know that I’ve become suicidal, no body does. Everybody sings out loud, I know I do, and my family knows that I’m always singing and listening to music. I’m always singing out loud or humming. So maybe they just stopped listening to me because for a while I haven’t been singing songs, I’ve been singing what I want to tell them, but don’t have the guts to actually telling them. I’ve been singing, “late at night your asleep and I’m awake, with a blade digging in my skin.” I sang that loud enough for all of them to hear, but they block it out thinking I’m just singing. But I’m not. I want people to notice that I’m hurt and make them think if it’s them that are making me do this to myself. Today I brought my blade to school, I’ve been carrying it with me all week. In two of my classes I was able to cut my wrist and nobody noticed (I sit near the teachers when I cut myself) Are these people blind? What is wrong with this society? Literally, no one noticed a blade on my desk before I even cut myself. REALLY!? I hate my life, no body pays attention to me. I don’t even the last time someone actually paid full attention to me, they would always be detracted with something else. Even if I was in an empty room they probably wouldn’t even pay attention. I just want someone to notice me, not just know me as, that girl, or the extra, or even known as the person that people always forget about. What do I have to do for someone to notice me around here?
Im done I cant take it no more or just might slit my wrist tonight i will die i cant live in this life no more i cant i wanna die so im going to take my life and if go to hell im a theif and horrible person I take advantage of the stupid and bleed them dryvim go there anyway so I just go quicker
I’ve become so depressed that I started cutting my wrist, not long ago. I wear long sleeves and sweat shirts to hide the scars. But the other day it was warm out so i wore a short sleeve shirt and brought a jacket to hide the scars if I needed to. It turns out that I didn’t need the jacket because everyone who must have seen my cuts didn’t give a fuck about it. They would look at my wrist then at my face and turn around and act like nothing happened. Um… hello you know that what you just saw isn’t something you always see, don’t you even wonder what made me do that to myself. Not even the adults give a fuck about it. They are just as bad as my classmates. No one at my school knows what a depressed person looks like. I don’t want help from anybody, I’m just saying that if people really did care they would have told someone about it. Someone would have actually tried to help me. People don’t give a fuck about me so what’s the point of being here. I’m just an extra, I don’t belong anywhere. I’m never enough for anyone. I never fit in anywhere, I’m the person that can easily be replaced by anyone, because I’m not big deal to anyone. They have given up on me.
I tried cutting my wrist today. Well I guess I could say I am still trying. Its not as easy as people make it out to be. Firstly get past your skin is a mission (I am using a blunt knife I father)… I know the first thing you will tell me is dont cut your wrists it hardly works. Well I have to try something and a knife is easy to find. I have to try that slight chance that I might die. I cant live life, I dont have a reason to live. Help me please!!!! Somebody please help… im beghing you… I am to weak.
This may seem like a minor problem at the moment,
But (I’ve mentioned) while seeing psychologist today, when she left, I took the moment to badly harm myself.
But see, I never hurt my wrist because its very evident and I don’t like wearing long sleeves 24/7, and it interferes with everything (the pain), and above all, its so horribly painful there afterwards, so usually when I’m doing ordinary tasks it stings like hell.
i wanna take a shower but….
I am planning to move to England in 3 months and start to work there. I want to save a big amount of money to take a makeup course. Makeup is what I am truly interested in, it’s a beautiful art to me and I have the skills to it. This is my future plan. Oh, and a tattoo on my wrist to cover my scars. The little beads will be torquoise and the bigger one will be poison green.
So I know warmer weather is coming soon and normally I’d be very excited because I love warm weather, but this year I’m dreading it because of my arm scars.
Last year I cut myself very badly on my wrist, I did it so badly that I get very sick from blood loss and I couldn’t get up without throwing up and my vision going blurry for a couple days. I know there is no reasonable excuse for them because they are very obviously self-inflicted so, I have been wrapping bandages around my arm and just telling people I hurt it.
I’m looking for excuses for why I’d be wearing the bandages so long term. Since my step family (who are still very new family) are very redneck and don’t believe in mental illness there’s no way I’d be comfortable telling the truth. Even though it’s been a very warm winter I’ve been able to keep wearing long sleeves, but it gets very hot in the summer so I can’t keep doing that.
Also I’ve recently started boarding my horses at a new place and I really, really like the people. They always help me out and encourage me with my horses, but I don’t know how to explain the bandages to them since I will be outdoors with them a lot. I thought about possibly telling them that I have bad scars from being in foster care and I don’t feel comfortable showing them (since I already have burn scars on my hand from the same thing.
I love to swim and I love the lake so I’m very bummed out because I wouldn’t know how to cover them for that. I already had to buy a little longer swimsuit bottoms to cover the scars on my hips. I live in a small town in Kansas and a lot of people here aren’t accepting of things like this. Also the idea of showing people is traumatizing to me because the scars represent a lot of bad memories and are very upsetting to me and showing people for some reason would make it worse.
lets pretend for one minute that i am happy, that the smile on my face is real and the cuts on my wrist are there. wait i cant do that. i cant think of me ever being happy and that kills me.
Fuck this life, man…
Fuck it all… Not even dope can help me heal now… It’s all clear, I’m not meant to live in this world, or any other for that matter…
I hate it when I have to wake up in the morning… Sleeping without any dreams is so peaceful… If death is like that, I want to die. There may be no turning back, but I don’t want to ever wake up again. All I want is to sleep. An eternal sleep, and nothing more. Is that too much to ask of this sadistic world? Perhaps it is…
Because of my new part-time job (as a baker), I can’t even cut/burn myself anymore, which was one of the few things I actually ENJOYED anymore…
It appears to me that the only exit right now is dying, and there is no other way. It is what it is…
My suicidal ideation reaches it’s peak whenever I wake up a few minutes before the alarm is supposed to go off… I look at the clock on my phone every few seconds, and just wait in a complete sense of PURE DREAD, as I know that time is unforgiving and won’t stop, and I’ll have to go through another fucking day of ”life” in this sadistic world…
If only I had the damn guts to cut my wrist open completely 2 years ago, I would be enjoying my eternal rest for now… I’m tired of pretending everything is fine just so I don’t get committed to a fucking crazy hospital and be pumped full of meds and morphine, and where I’m under constant surveillance by some other sadistic fuckers who want to make sure you suffer to the max without letting you die at your own terms…
All this time I had it wrong… Death is nothing to be scared of. It’s not death that causes the pain felt during suicide, it’s the life that tries to make you suffer even on your way out. Death is relief, and the only certainty we will ever have as humans.
Yeah, philosophical mood caused by too much hitting my head against the wall and rocking in the corner planning my suicide.
This may be my last post here. If I’m alive, I’ll post an update in a week at most. If I don’t do it until 8th of December, assume I’m scattered across some railroad in the middle of nowhere or splattered on the ground near a skyscraper.
I have this tattoo on my wrist.
It’s a peace sign and it says I’m still breathing.
I’ve had it for two years.
I couldn’t protect my sister, So I didn’t want to live.
My tattoo of a reminder that I have the strength and peace within myself to keep going.