He broke me down and got into my core, the capital of my heart. He happily resided in the blood of my soul, or so I thought. Unknowingly he was living in someone elses heart much more happily resided in theirs rather than mine. Caressed my mind with sweet nothings and empty words that should’ve been full of emotion. Worked into my brain and blindsided me from the signs. From the facts. I thought maybe somebody could be content and liberated with just me and no one else. Told me his fears and goals. Broke into tears full of heartbreak and confusion .. all for the game. All just to play. Created a vulnerable state of himself to break me into mine. To hurt me. To break me. I gave him my all. I gave him my heart. And for what ? For lies and hurt? Once a person I couldn’t take my eyes off of was now someone I couldn’t stand to see. His smell lingered on my clothes. On my pillow. On my skin. Bringing back visions I’d rather not foresee. I could feel his touch against my skin, the quiver in my breath. Again I felt the comfort in the silence we shared looking deep into each other. Never again. Never again ..
If I have my flexril, ultram and Ativan counted out, does that mean I’m ready? I can’t stop thinking bout taking them. I can stop thinking bout makin the pain go away. Does that mean I’m ready?
I’ve stopped caring bout gettin up and showering, I’ve stopped wanting or needed other human contact, are these signs that its time? My phone is off more than its on, even if its on I no longer answer it. Can’t remember the last time I actually spoke to a person.
AM I READY?
I think I am, I can’t think of a good reason to stay.
If something is wrong, just write it down somewhere.
Maybe someone will find it. Maybe someone will become curious with whatever is in your computer, whatever is written in your notebook, or whatever is shown in your eyes.
Maybe they’ll see it. There’s still a possibility.
But for me?
Ah, they won’t. No matter how quiet I’ve gotten. Despite the number of books I’ve read about depression and their stories. Regardless of how many I give them, no one has found the signs.
But how could someone possibly find what they’re not looking for?
I hate how inevitable it feels. Like, I can pretend all that I want to be happy or that I have purpose or whatever, but it doesn’t change my fate. Like I’m destined for suicide. It’s what I always come back to, and it’s getting harder and harder to say no to it anymore. I don’t want to say no. I just want to be done with all this pain, and this world only dishes out pain. ItÂ isn’t going to end in this lifetime, so it’s like my only shot is in the next. But shit, I’m a Christian, and suicide is a sin. Will I go to Hell? Or will God understand how much I hurt? I don’t want to risk going to an even worse Hell, but idk how much longer I can last here. I want so badly to scream out to all my friends that I want to kill myself, but how selfish would that be? What the heck are they supposed to do? What do I expect? It isn’t fair to lay that burden on them, so that when they try to help and I kill myself anyway, they’ll feel guilty. No, I can’t do that to them. I wish they’d just find out by accident or something and save me. But I can’t keep hope in rescue fantasies. I just wish I could get help without my parents or anyone else finding out. If I tell my counselor, she’ll put me in a psych ward or something. I can’t do that, so what choice do I have but to keep feeling this way. Only, I can’t keep feeling this way. I have to get out. I have to die. I just don’t want to hurt anyone. I understand why they shouldn’t really hurt by it, but I know they will be. I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel so trapped and panicked. I want out, and I have the means. I have plenty of pills, a razor, a rope tied in a noose, not to mention bridges and buildings galore if need be. I could do it anytime. I don’t know what’s stopping me anymore. Nobody understands, and nobody wants to listen. Can’t people tell? Don’t they know that signs? Why am I so invisible?
Every night I have to convince myself not to do something drastic.
I have to look at myself in the mirror, and I have to lecture myself for so long just to tell myself not to cut, not to think terrible thoughts, not to attempt suicide, not to cry, not to do anything that harms myself.
I think I’m losing myself.
I’m not feeling as how I used to.
I can’t stay happy. I fake a smile when I’m in school.
But I don’t talk. People talk to me, and I nod as a sign that I’m listening. I’m done with talking.
I don’t know if I’m cutting myself for attention. If I’m acting like this for attention. I’ve never been one to crave drama or attention. I have an extremely drama-free life.
It’s just really depressing, I guess. Sadistic, I should say. That no one ever asks me if I’m okay anymore. No one ever shows concern for me.
I guess it’s a sign, expressing that I’m mature and they suppose I’m responsible for myself. But I’m not. I can’t take care of myself at all.
I don’t know what’s with me. I give myself a surplus of reasons why not to feel sad. I give myself a thousand valid excuses explaining why Â should be happy. Why I should smile.
I have the latest clothes, I don’t have drama, I have a nice house, I have good grades, etc.
But it’s not enough. They aren’t good enough to convince me. I don’t know why.
I just feel as if everything would be better– for everyone– if I just wiped my own existence out of this. Can anyone relate?
Idunno. I’m being pushed. Pushed to do these things, by both myself, friends and family, and piers.
So many things cause me to use a blade as my remedy. So many things cause me to try to overdose on medicine. So many things cause me to consider making a suicide attempt at the end of the week.
And no one has noticed this.
I’ve tried my hardest to give them signs.
Small signs in which say “Please, worry about me. Ask me if I’m okay.”
That way they don’t think I’m looking for attention. That way they can think “Maybe she’s looking for help. Maybe I’m the one who should help her.”
But they never do.
It’s an oxymoron; I know. Because by definition a suicide note is representative of something horrible, and the word perfect means lacking in flaws or defects: so you really cannot have a perfect suicide, can you? I don’t know if it’s possible or not. But I want to come as close as I can. My name is Rachel. I am seventeen years old. Some might say I have my whole life ahead of me, but one day reallyÂ soon, I am going to commit suicide. What follows is a draft of my suicide note. Read it. Comment. Help me make it perfect.
If you are reading this, then something has happened. Something that I undoubtedly cannot take back. And for that reason, I am sorry. I am sorry that this happened. I have been dancing around with these thoughts for a year, really seriously for a couple of months. When I first started thinking about suicide, I would think of painless methods: ways that I could off myself and feel as little pain as possible. Pills and alcohol, CO2 poisoning, exit bag… ways that I could kill myself without having to really think about what I was doing. But as time wore on, I stopped thinking about painless ways and just started thinking aboutÂ ways.Â It no longer mattered to me if I put a bag over my head or a bullet through my brain. I did not really care whether or not I drank myself to death or slit my throat until all the blood had run out of my body. And that is when I realized how serious I was because it did not matter to me how I did it anymore justÂ that I did it.Â And why? Why did this happen? What single act occurred that made me sayÂ this is it? I was not raped. I was not molested. I was not a victim of any of the “bad” things that are usually associated with depression. But what I went through, for me, was no more bearable. I woke upÂ every single dayÂ for anÂ entire yearÂ looking for a reason not to kill myself. I looked for flashes of love in people, glimmers of hope in things, and signs,Â how many signs did I look forÂ to tell me that everyday was worth it. How many times did I tell myself just wait until tomorrow, you will see, tomorrow will be better, butÂ tomorrow is never better.Â And next week isÂ never better. And next month isÂ neverÂ better!Â And it got to the point where I could not just live for the ones I love, you know? And I loved you. Oh, how I loved you all. And I loved myself. But… I knew that if things kept up the way they were, that I would stop loving myself. And… what is the point of living if you do not love yourself? What is the point of living if every day is just a disappointment? And every day was such a disappointment. Disappointment after disappointment after disappointment. It seemed there was a never ending circle of disappointment awaiting me. Sure. I was in college. But I hated it because you made me go there.Â And I could barely afford it because I had to pay for it.Â And I could not afford to go anywhere Â else. And even though I had good test scores, great GPAs, impressive extracurriculars, outstanding essays… I could not get any scholarships I applied for. Not a single one. And then… I fell apart because that college you would not let me go to at first… I did not get accepted. How could I not have gotten accepted again? I was the same person, same essays, same test scores, same grades… what was better about me a year ago? And no. I did not kill myself because I did not get into college. I killed myself because not getting it meantÂ this.Â It meantÂ more of the same.Â And I could not deal with the thought of every day being just like yesterday and tomorrow being just like today. And do not blame yourself. Please. Just take this for what it is. And let it go. And I know that when you wake up tomorrow, you will feel this pain and this hurt, and I know that you will miss me like crazy and everything thing that reminds you of me will be like a stab in your chest. And this might happen tomorrow and every day next week and every day next month. But then… one day, you will wake up. And you will realize you have a smile on your face. And that the prospect of living without me is not as overwhelmingly impossible as it was before. And you will realize that this is your life and you will live it to the fullest in memory of me. And when you do this, you will be at peace. And when you get to that moment, I wish you a long, happy, prosperous, fulfilled, and satisfying life. With love, I left. -Rachel.
So today, I feel as though the world is telling me to do it, just go for it. At work today a overly perky co-worker gave me a toosie roll telling me it would make me smile, that no one can not smile while eating a toosie roll. I was running down the second flight of stairs for the third time today and thought hell eat the toosie roll. So I did, I broke a tooth on it, I broke a tooth eating a toosie roll!
My neighbors are such ass’s. all week my toilet has been bumbling, thumbling, and acting as though it is going to to back up. Their toilet as backed up in my shower seven times this week, having human sh*t, pee and toilet paper. Once while I was actually in the shower.
Oh and to boot, I cant get in to have my tooth looked at until Thursday.
Living in a duplex with 10 people living in the unit beside me, a broken tooth and everything well. This week has just been over whelming. 🙁
Being completely alone…it sucks. All of my friends have pretty much stopped talking to me, and they never want to spend time with me. In that time, i tried to get closer to my family…but they would rather watch tv than talk to me. I turn 18 next month, and i’m pushing myself to go on, see if anything gets better after i move out and start college. But i doubt things will change. I keep asking myself “What’s wrong with me?”. I’m pushing myself to keep going because i don’t want to be just another teen suicide story. There’s been too many of those. I have to fight the urges to cut myself all of the time. I was a cutter for 3 years and i quit about a year ago. The urges never went away. My family, and the few friends i have left think that i’m “all better”. Yeah, sometimes i put on that happy act, but most days, i don’t. I attempted suicide about a year ago, and have had to work hard to gain trust back. But now they’ve all lost concern. Even when i don’t pretend to be happy, they don’t see just how bad it is. If i were to tell them, though, then my parents would send me back to the mental hospital i had to spend a week at after my attempt. I think if i started cutting again, i would get better, but my parentd still watch me for signs of that. My mom says how much she wants me to be able to come to her any time i’m upset, because now that i’m almost an adult, it wouldn’t be only as mother and daughter, but as friends too. But when i actually do try to talk to her, she always says she would rather watch tv or play with her cat or talk on the phone with my older sister. And then she wonders why i feel so alone that i want to cut. She wonders why, a year ago, i didn’t talk to her instead of trying to end my own life. But i did try to talk to her, and she yelled at me for “making things up.”. Yes, she thought i was lying about being suicidal. And now, i’m getting suicidal again, and i want to cut. My blades used to be my best friends. Those blades got me through so much. And then, plans to end my life, seeing the end getting near, it helped. But i’m scared to try again…not scared to die, but scared to fail. A failed suicide makes life 100x worse than it was before. I’m scared that if i do succeed, people will judge who i was, thinking i killed myself for attention, that i would be considered pathetic. Me becoming anorexic is nothing at this point. And i know this post is long. If you actually read this far, thank you. I just needed to get this all out, because there’s no one in my life i could tell any of this to. I don’t want them to know anyways, because the few people who care are so happy about how much “better” i am. And i don’t want to ruin that illusion for them. It would be wrong of me to do that to them.
I try to hide my insecurities, my hopelessness. I don’t know how to release them all. I hide my depression. I mean, I guess there are signs. But I’m pretty sure I’ve hid all signs of ever thinking about suicide. I cut, it will definitely show. So it would be very small. I’d hurt myself. But I bruise easily. There’s only so much you can attribute to clumsiness.Â I can hide little bruises, little things, but never anything big.
I like to project myself as a sunny person, so no one must know how screwed I am. My disposition is “sunny”. I don’t talk much, just smile and listen. And then I’d think “fuck, fuck, fuck”. I’m fucked. The only place I can think of that is safe to do anything to is my head. And that’s the most fucked up place. Maybe I should just bang my head on concrete wall.
You told me you were a cutter too. You told me you’ve felt the darkness. You told me a lot of things.
But you lied. I saw your body yesterday. There were no gags in your flesh, no signs that you’ve been there and back. And I stood before you and exposed myself, every gaping wound that streaked my arms and legs. I bet you aren’t really depressed. You’re the definition of attention whore.
I thought I found someone who knew who I was. But now you’re an entirely different person. And now you’re dead to me.
Just like I am.
But jokes on you. You’ve never felt the delicious sting of real life pain that shoots through your blood after edging in a razor. You’ve never released yourself from the stress of being alive.
Which is what I’m going to go do now.
I don’t know what to do anymore i just want to end it I’m thinking whats the point anymore…..that’s the real question Whats the Point? you know it will be so easy putting a gun to my head but the hard part would be pulling the trigger and thinking what would everyone do when I’m gone would anyone notice my best friend died yesterday he was 16 and you know what the scary part about is death was that he killed him self i miss him so much you have no clue how much i want to be with him i was in love with him and i never got to tell him his funeral is on Saturday next week and i don’t know if I’ll go but i will when ever one leaves him gonna be the last one to leave cause i,m gonna sit there and talk to him and tell him everything I’m telling you now….I miss you so much Kaden and i don’t know why you didn’t talk to me i should of noticed the signs i should of talked to you i should of been the one to save you…..I love you so much and i miss you…..maybe well see each other sooner then we think….:'(
“You are never a loser until you quit trying.”
“Keep trying, even when you want to give up for miracles are real”
“Never the let the sadness of your past and the fear of your future ruin the happiness of your present”
“Problems are not stop signs, they are guidelines.”
“One of the greatest challenges in life is being yourself in a world that’s trying to make you like everyone else.”
“Nobody can take away your pain, so donâ€™t let anyone take away your happiness.”
“Stop trying to escape your reality, change it. Your past doesn’t define your future.”
“The strongest people are not those who show strength in front of us but those who win battles we know nothing about. ”
I felt suicidal as a teenager, 20 years ago, and never thought it would happen again.Â I’m a trained mental health worker, I know the signs, I know who I am supposed to call, what I’m supposed to do,Â but I don’t see the point.Â Up until May this year I thought suicide was a sad act, and now, I think it is a viable option.Â Infact, I’ve come up with my own therapy, I have a plan.Â On the 26th of September 2014 I am allowed to take my own life.Â Four months before this date, decision making goes in to lock down- as in- I have made a pact with myself that four months before that date I must have made a final decision.Â If I decide at that point that I will not end my life- then I am not allowed to change my mind- this is to prevent impulsive actions.Â If I decide at the four month mark that I will take my life, I am allowed to change my mind at any point.Â I want to make sure that I am of sound mind, and that it is not a rash reaction to something that will simply pass in time.
I no longer feel guilty, because I think anyone who is angry with me for ending my life, is selfish-Â how dare anyone expect me to live another 40 miserable years for their sake.Â They weep for themselves, not for the person.
I have already closed one email account.Â I have destroyed my mobile phone.Â I have one email account left, which I’m thinking will be closed down within 6 months.
I want to die with dignity, I want to die with friends and loved ones around me, I want to openly talk to people about this, as a potential viable option, with a measured, calm approach.Â It’s frustrating and sad this isn’t really possible due to our culture’s fears surrouding death.
I found my neighbor hanging dead in his house last week, and my journey for answers brought me to this site and I feel the need to share.
Myself and other neighbors had expressed some concern that we had not seen our neighbor for several weeks. Those weeks turned to months. We didn’t know what to do, and just hoped he was away. We didn’t really know what to do, there were no signs of foul play on the outside of his home, so the police would do nothing.
A few weeks into the concerns, I told my neighbors I would check to see if his second floor porch door was unlocked. We tried his front door and it was locked. As it would turn out I didn’t do this task, until almost 2 months later. That time was last week. The reason I decided to check was because I looked over and noticed his back windows covered in flies. The chills started, and I knew something wasn’t right. I was hoping maybe he left some food out, but deep inside I knew he was in there, deceased. It didn’t take me long to get my ladder and climb up to his porch. Sure enough, the door was unlocked. I should have stopped there, should have called the police and got out of there. There is no way to describe the chills I felt, knowing I was likely going to find him deceased. But at the same time I knew I had to go in, and look for him myself.
My neighbor and I were not very close, but we were good neighbors. We always talked whenever we passed. We occasionally played catch in the yard, and went for drinks a few times. He liked to keep to himself, and we respected that. He didn’t have much family, or any other friends that came to the house. But there were never any signs that things were wrong.
So despite my best judgement, I opened the door. My memory is fuzzy as to what happened next. I remember calling his name with just the door cracked open. I can’t recall if I entered or not, but if I did, I didn’t go in very far. With the door open, flies were everywhere. I panned my light across the room. It was dusk, so not super dark, but I brought the light anyway. At the end of panning across the room, as I looked towards his stair well, there was an object in the stair well, and at first I jumped because I didn’t expect to see anything there, maybe someone was walking up from the basement? As I jumped back, my mind processed what I had seen. It was my neighbor, and he wasn’t walking up the stairs. I looked back to confirm my worst thoughts. There he hung, his skin color almost black. It only took another few seconds to confirm what I had found, then I was out, down the ladder, and back in my house, trying to compose myself to call 911.
I called 911 and told them what I had found. They asked why I entered, what I saw, what he looked like, how long since I’d last seen him, and more. Within 3 minutes the first officer was there. Within less than 10 minutes, 3 officers were there. The evening continued with more officers and investigators, answering their questions and grieving with neighbors.
While not completely sure, I think he’s been hanging there for at least 2 months, possibly 3. We live in townhouses, so our walls our joined. I’d been walking on the other side of the wall from him, merely 2 ft away, every day, multiple times a day. There never was a strong smell. After the fact, as I reflect back, there were some odd smells. Its also close to my kitchen, and I attributed the smells to something in the trash.Â Once the officers entered and disturbed the body, there was definitely a very strong smell of rotting flesh, that actually quickly spread into my house.Â For the most part its cleared, but occasionally I can smell it again, and the flashbacks and chills follow.
In the back of mind, when the neighbors first expressed concern, for some reason I thought that in fact he was dead in his home. My other neighbor was concerned maybe he had a medical problem. Over the months I thought, what if he is in there? Is he crazy enough to do something stupid over there? Is he in there?Â What happened, where is he? As I entered his house, I expected to find him lying on the floor, or in bed. I did not expect to find him the way I did.
Its been a hard week. I’ve seen a lot of sick things, and have a pretty strong stomach, but there is nothing anyone can do to prepare themselves to see that. And I there is nothing anyone can do to erase that from their memory.Â I didn’t sleep or eat for the first 2 nights/days. I couldn’t spend that first night in my house, I had to leave, partially because of the small, but also the fact that I’d been sleeping next to his deceased body for so long. I still have constant flash backs of him hanging there, and get the chills/goose bumps anytime I think about it. The hardest part is knowing how long he was there. It gets a little better each day, and I’m sleeping through the night again. I’ve shared this story with friends in family, as the more I talk about it and share this story, the better it gets. Just typing it here is also helping me cope.
Despite how f-ed up my head is now, and knowing I’ll never forget that image of him, I’m glad I found him instead of his family.Â I can’t image a family member having to see what I saw.Â I’m going to see a physc next week, and will deal with this traumatic event day by day.Â I’m glad we found him, and he can be laid to rest, and we can all move on with out lives.Â I’m sorry his had to end that way, but his suffering is over.
I’ve had hard times in life; between school, parents, siblings, girlfriends, bullies, teachers, failing courses in college, loosing jobs, accidents, etc…Â I’ve felt depressed, and I, like most of you, thought about ending it all.Â I think everyone, at some point in their life has had that thought.Â Its the easy way out.Â I don’t know what kept me going besides the hope that things would get better.Â I do dream about things I want to do, places I want to see, things I want to own, and I think that keeps me going.Â I don’t let people get in my way, if someone says I can’t, then that is more of a reason for me to succeed and prove them wrong.
Like I said, I found your site after this event, searching the web, trying to find answers.Â I was mainly trying to find others who have had the same experience, and learn how they dealt with it.Â At first I was shocked that such a site existed.Â But then I realized, the site says “share your suicide story with others”.Â Well this is my story.Â Be safe.Â Don’t let this happen to someone you love, or at least someone that loves you.
I’m not here to judge or talk you out of cutting, overdosing, or other means of escaping. Primarily because i myself have been through it all and still am. My life has been a constant shove here and there for me to pick up the blades i keep in my makeup bag. Scars dont bother me, the pain can be grown accustomed to. I have heard just about every cliche from people who swear they want to help. I am not a reject and have always done well in school and outside. I have friends and am not a total failure as a girl. But thats not what matters. The pain i struggled to keep to myself showed no signs of going away anytime soon. Its a game of chance every day, waking up can mean a beautiful day or a bleak, dark one where i just want to disappear. I feel like hell reaching out to people, like who am I to bother their lives with my problems?! So here’s to anyone who comes across my post, I have created an email address specifically for this purpose. Whatever you may be going through, no matter how effing much you feel like leaving this world, if you feel like you dont have anyone who cares, I AM HERE AND I ONLY WANT TO HELP. I dont know you and you dont know me, we can help each other and it wont feel like we’re imposing on our loved ones because we are total strangers. I sincerely want you to be okay and safe so please, if you’re feeling low, email me: firstname.lastname@example.org. It cant possibly be any scarier than what you’re thinking of doing to yourself, so please, consider it. I’ll always be here for You!
I am writing this not so much so people can comment, but because I know writing it down makes it a little easier and I find it alot easier to show/talk about this to strangers rather than feeling like I’m a nuisance to my friends. Also, I’m just going to stick to the main events, seeing as the others aren’t that important.
Last year I had a suicidal friend. He was like a brother to me and after the first time he told me he felt suicidal, I could tell the signs for the future. When I could see the signs or if he told me he felt suicidal, I would go and stay at his place for a night or more and usually after that he would be alright for at least a few weeks. In April he told me he was suicidal so I went to his place as usual. After a few hours, he seemed alright and so I said we should watch a movie. He said it was a great idea and asked me to go get the popcorn while he chose out a movie, so I did. When I got back, he had a gun in his hand, I knew it was for him to aim at himself, so I tried to convince him to put it down and that I could help him. A few minutes later, I realised he wasn’t going to put it down, so I tackled him and tried to rip it out of his hands. I don’t really remember much of what happened that night after that, except that there were two gunshots, one of which got him in the head. From what I heard, I called the ambulance and than a teacher from my school (who was close to a good family friend of mine, so I got to know on a personal level). He told me that I couldn’t form a sentence properly and the only reason he knew where to go was because in my ramblings, I mentioned the friend’s name. Apparently once he got there, I started screaming and crying to him about how I tried to save the friend and eventually cried myself to sleep. The next day I woke thinking that it was all just a dream, but the teacher told me that it wasn’t and that he had made calls to family and friends of the suicide victim. I was extremely shocked, but I didn’t feel the pain I knew I should have been feeling. Eventually, it all set in and I fell apart.
Over the next couple of months, I hadÂ allegationsÂ from all over the place saying I was the one who shot him. This including people who use to be close friends. Luckily we went to different schools and so school was a safe haven for me and most the teachers and my friends supported me. But that didn’t mean I stopped thinking about it. I mean sure I didn’t pull the trigger, but I felt and still feel like I murdered him. I mean I should have told someone else about how he was feeling right?
In the next couple of months, things just got worse. Exactly a month after my friend committed suicide, my best friend’s sister (who was also a good friend of mine) died of a brain hemorage. Being the type of person I am, I kept it in and tried to help others. I still miss her and feel the guilt of not being able to help my best friend (she lives in a different state) every day.
Just when things were starting to get a little better, it got worse. In July I was out with one of my best friends (might as well have been my sister with how close we are). While we were out, I saw a group that my brother use to hang out with and that my ex still did. I knew that they were bad news, so I walked this friend home. I guess you could say my biggest mistake was leaving her house rather than getting her dad to drop me off home. I was planning to go back to the bus stop, but on the way they stopped me. They started going on about how my ex owed them money (usually I would bail him out, but I had told myself I was done with him this time). I kept trying to walk, but the “ringleader” grabbed me. I tried to fight them off, and I was doing alright until I felt a metal object hit the back of my head. All of a sudden, I was tied to a pole. The “ringleader” started touching me and taking off my clothes, then he stopped. I don’t think I’ll ever forget what he said next. “You can make us go away, all you have to do is give us her”. What scares me to this day isn’t that I thought he would rape us both, but that I knew he would make me sit there and watch him rape her if I gave her up, so I made a choice. Just like that, my virginity was gone. After he was done, another of the boys came up to me. I knew he was about to do the same, but then something happened. The teacher who I had called the night of my friend’s suicide had one of the boys tackled onto the ground. I guess you could call this guy my guardian angel, I know I do. Anyway he once again helped me out and even helped me explain what had happened to my parents and best friend.
All six of the boys are now in prison, my friends and family have been really supportive and the bullying about being a “murderer” and a “whore” have now lessened, but I’m still stuck here scarred. I haven’t slept a full night (without medication or alcohol) since my friend committed suicide, I can barely get up in the morning without feeling like it is a waste, my grades have droppedÂ immensely, I can’t do anything without the paranoia that something bad will happen, I’ve had suicide attemptsÂ and through the bullying and becoming antisocial, I have lost a large base of my friendship groups. But that’s not what scares me the most. What scares me is I have gone from the honest, optimistic, love yourself” person to the most self loathing person I know, but I’m such a good liar that basically no one notices.
I know this is long, but I just needed to get it out.
About 3 year ago I fell in love with a girl that I had known for a few years. We started to talk through texting, instant messaging etc, but we would never talk in person, ever, I mean I felt just guilty looking at her. We became “best friends” (sounds almost laughable now, considering we never said one word to eachother), but I always got so angry whenever we talked after a few months of this, and we argued pretty much every day (still through texting), which caused me to harm myself – most notably I have several long scars across my torso, a burn down my right leg and a scar just below my eye. About 3 times I would decide that I wanted to kill myself, but at the time I suppose I didn’t ACTUALLY want to, it was more of a cry for help, or a temporary release, giving me a feeling of it ending. After a while, we reconciled and we had an err, intimate time (you know.) over the phone, which is quite I guess. After this, for some reason, we just stopped communicating at all.
My close friends (the number of which was decreasing a fair bit during this time) talked to me one day saying I ought to get help, and I had no idea why. I mean, I was really depressed, and I couldn’t stop thinking about killing myself, but I didn’t think it showed. So I got a therapist who told me I was showing early signs of psychosis. I began to hear things and such, too. A few weeks after this was when I genuinely decided that I had enough, that I just wanted all of it to fucking end, so I tore my shelves off the wall, and made a (terrible) noose and attatched it to the highest bracket on the wall. I put it around my neck and jumped. At this point (the comic relief, don’t feel bad if you laugh), I should probably tell you that I’m 6ft 6, and because of this I was too tall to hang properly from the brack, so my feet were ever so slightly on the floor, just enough to.. well, piss me off. After about 10-15 seconds, I started to become dizzy, and the room was spinning around right before my eyes, I wasn’t sure what I was thinking, but I was getting very sharp and quick hallucinations (the one I remember mostly was Bruce Willis poking his head out from behind my curtains). Then I blacked out. When I came to (which I didn’t know was possible since I was (half) hanging), I thought about half an hour or so had passed, but I looked at my iPod which was playing, and it was about 20-30 seconds later in the same song. I got a strange emotional feeling and took the noose off and ran downstairs, and sat down for a few hours.
After I told my therapist, she put me into a mental health hospital for just over 2 weeks, which was actually pretty great. When I got out, I thought about suicide a lot, constantly for months, but eventually these feelings died down and I became a (fairly) normal person again. However after a few weeks, I saw the girl again with her friends. I remember this part very vividly, because it confuses me still, as she “ran” over to me and gave me a hug and started talking to me just like a normal human being. I was shit scared to be honest. For about another year we just talked normally like normal friends, and never has anything to do with the start of my story popped up again. I began to think I may have been hallucinating the whole time I was in love with her (hell, I might have been), and I began to get paranoid, which triggered my psychosis off again. Once again, I tried suicide. This time however, I felt, grown(?), in a way by my previous experiences, willing to try new things sort of. So, I decided to try to kill myself by cutting my torso, arms and face until I bled out. I just can’t stand wrists (Achilles tendons are worse however, ruined Hostel for me totally), but I wanted the feeling of bleeding out. I also hate stabbing. Anywho, after all of this had died down, I had no reason to be depressed any more, and I had a pretty typical life. I felt nothing. Not happiness, nor sadness. I still now just wish with all my heart that I had just killed myself. I want to be dead but I am not suicidal, I would never attempt suicide now. I feel like I missed my chance, and my punishment is just to linger on until I do happen to die.
Thank you for reading this, sorry I went on a bit but I just wanted or me personally to have written out my experiences. All the best for everybody here.
People say if you kill yourself you will miss out on alot. Me all I have ever done is missed out on things. I missed out at socializing in a party cause I was to god damn scared, I missed out having a girlfriend all because I can’t read the signs, and I am missing out on seeing theÂ life’sÂ of 4/6 of my nieces and nephews whom I love dearly. All I am is just a zombie. Trying to make ends meat in this cruel world while struggling to know my difference with society and just waiting for someone or something to end it. I am telling myself I don’t need anyone but it’s just not working. All I know is if I try again to end my misery, no one will expect it.
The Minute I wake up I cry because I am so sick and tired of my life and how it has been lived. I wonder what I have done wrong in my life. You know I know that i am not perfect I never have claimed to me and I know for sure I will never claim the perfection of someone…. I am not flawless like others. When i look in the mirror I stare and cry some more because I am not that pretty skinny girl every one would love to be with..
I am not perfection because I have been through so much bullshit in my life. I am poor, I have mental problems, I am just a screw up. I could sit here for hours explaining things to you and you would still walk off wondering who I am and what I am and everything. You may even turn around and think badly of me because I am a screw up.
When you go through all abuses, You start to wonder what is the point in really living. i really have nothing to live for.. I cut for pleasure, to let out relief, to let out pain and hurt and misery. I cut to watch the blood drip from my arm, I cut to wonder if I will actually go deep enough to kill myself and watch as my life flashes through my eyes. And to see if there was anything so bad that I have done.
You have no idea.. How everyday I wake up wondering why I am still living. Why I am still drawing breaths. You know.. Why I haven’t left the planet yet. People say that there is a god. that he is there watching over you making sure you are safe. But if there was a god then where is he.. Why has he not told me my “plan” Is that my plan? To hurt all of my life.. To have bad luck.. to want to die.. I have not seen him doing anything good for me.. Where is he when I want him there. When I have needed him the most.. I have not seen any signs that he has been there at all. i have lost all faith in this person named God…
I blink and stare at my ceiling as I write this.. Wondering who is even going to read this.. Wondering if they really care and understand the things that I have been through.. I am suicidal all the time and i want to kill myself 24-7. I have planned so many ways to do it too. I have attempted it already more then I can count.. Ha ha.. I think this is all for now continue later ..:D
Im tired n going to fix that someday, if you know what pain is i can promise you that the pain i have is on a level so high that no painkillers helps, o nice…
I just dont want to wake up tomorrow, i just dont want to do that.
In my eyes life isnt worth living in anymore, there havent been a painfree day in my head since 1983 after a car crash, i died in that crash but somehow they got me back, my biggest misstake in life. Took over a year to learn to walk again after this accident.
Got a job in a tarp business and started to weld big sheets together, it didnt take 3 years i started to get problems in this job.
As stupid as i was i got more stubborn and worked even harder now when i got a family of my own.
Due to the hard work i started to get damages on my body.
Shoulders, elbows, wrists and a knee that i worked with during a period of 5 1/2 year ( cracked kneecap ) and 1 day i stopped, the knee was operated and noooo, the pain goes up on the surgery 3 times more pain.
Trying to get back to life to often but every time seen the signs that doesnt allow me to do so.
So what i wait for now is just my upcoming act when it comes, and come it will.
3 hrs sleep a night since 1983 makes wonders in or on a mind, and this pain gee.
What to say: It was not to be