Unhappy is he to whom the memories of childhood bring only fear and sadness.
-H. P. Lovecraft, “The Outsider”
All throughout my life, I have felt blinded… betrayed; by who? I don’t know. I felt like I could not see the bigger picture, but it turned out that I did not have a voice. I could not speak my mind without feeling tired; and then… falling asleep. I would wake up feeling confused and dazed; not yet ready to challenge the world again. I felt like there was nothing left for me here… anymore. And there still is nothing. I have to ignore hope… and embrace the end. It’s terrifying. To have these thoughts race throughout my mind; and to just accept them. Why? Why accept them? or anything. I’m praying for the end; so I can no longer experience those painful moment anymore. We can’t go on. Just to see the greater story. I lost everything; and I never got to see the other side. Please, never again.
Alyce J. Kidder
It’s okay, I’ve tried my best; I need to sleep again soon. Please be the last time I see this place… this world… this nightmare.
The reason I’m suicidal is because I’m a fictive in a DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) system. Basically, due to an extraordinary amount of childhood trauma, the brain I occupy formed multiple occupants in addition to myself. Being a fictive, specifically, means that my identity is formed based on a character from a fictional source. In other words, I remember being that character – I remember being in another body (and one of a different sex and specie, no less), in another world, surrounded by an entirely different set of friends and family, and so on, and even though I rationally recognize it all as fiction, I still desperately want to go back, because simply being here, in this body, on this planet, in this entire spacetime continuum, causes me an extreme amount of dysphoria, and I feel absolutely no connection to any of it. The only person I do feel a connection to is another fictive in another DID system who has the same source that I do, and so I don’t really see them as a connection to this life I’m currently living or the body/world I live in, but rather, as a connection to my “old life” that I can never go back to. For many reasons, I can’t even try to make this life I’m living now any closer to my “old life” in any meaningful way than it already is. Being unable to go back (because again, fiction) gives me no option for ever feeling any sort of happiness, because my happiness requires me to feel like I’m living my own life, in my own body, in a place that is my home. Because I cannot possibly be happy in this existence, I would rather die.
This isn’t even getting into the multitude of other problems which aren’t the primary reason for which I want to die, but still make this life even more unbearable than what I’ve already described. There’s the unmedicated ADD that makes basic functioning next to impossible for me (the executive dysfunction makes it difficult just to go to the bathroom when I need to, and the inability to focus has made me unable to read past the first paragraph of a book ever since doctors stopped prescribing my ADD meds – and don’t suggest audiobooks, as many have, because auditory processing problems actually make them *worse* for me), the intrusive thoughts I keep getting which are as annoying as they are distressing, the multitude of injuries from the abuse that this body has endured that make this body physically painful to occupy in addition to the dysphoria causing mental and emotional pain, the fact that the SSI I’m limited to getting doesn’t even really cover my basic needs, the existential horror that comes from the fact that I only exist at all simply because some kid got abused, the fact that this world is doomed anyway due to climate change and rising fascism… All of those things just add pain to an existence I never asked for and see no point in continuing.
I’m already seeing a therapist, but she can only help with healing from the trauma. She can’t help me find happiness in an existence that is fundamentally incompatible with me being happy, and she can’t help me to cope with it when I have no intention of merely coping (since, if I’m never happy, there is no point to me coping in the first place). I’m on a waitlist to see a therapist through a different organization, but I don’t think they’ll be able to help me, either. I also have a plan to commit suicide (which I will not specify here), and while I lack the material conditions to act on this plan at the moment, I feel confident that I will end up going out the way I plan to when I am able to.
And before anyone suggests it, no, I can’t justify living for the sake of anyone else. Everyone else in our system either is just as miserable as I am (because they’re also fictives going through the same thing I’m going through), or they just don’t care about life anyway. The person I mentioned earlier, who is the only one I feel a connection to? They said they’d probably die too, if I killed myself, but honestly, they’re better off dead, just like I am. In fact, I feel like everyone I have any care for, and/or who has any care for me, is better off dead. I can’t function well enough to materially support others in my community, and if I tried emotionally supporting others, I would have to lie, or else I’d make them feel worse by being honest.
I’m just tired of living in a body, in a world, in a life that I have no reason to be in.
You might be invisible, but I can see you standing on every corner of my mind.
Do I report an invisible man?
Do I report a faceless and voiceless man?
I still remember what you did to me that year
That summer day where you ruin my life
I remember what you wanted to do with me
I remember everything, yet your face is still a blur
Who am I suppose to run from?
Who am I suppose to hide from?
I still feel you
I can feel how you pushed me against that house
Your hands were two, but they felt like two millions
millions of hands all over my body
Trying to rip my clothes off
Am I grateful to be here?
I still think about that
I sometimes wish you’d killed me
I have constant nightmares and panic attacks
I don’t know who you are but I hate you
I don’t know you name but I hate it
I close my eyes and you are there
I cross the street and you are there
It’s so ironic really
I sometimes think i’m still there
That I never got away from you
Maybe i’m still there and all my life it’s really a fantasy i’m having
Maybe my nightmares are not nightmares, they are real.
Maybe my life is not my life
I’m not sure what to do, I just want to die.
I’m being kicked out from the last family I have left. I escaped a four year, extremely abusive relationship, and begged to the last blood relatives I have for shelter. It’s been nearly a year since February, and they’ve decided I don’t “fit in with the family” and am “not getting better,” so they want me out. I have no health insurance, I’m on disability for major depression, BPD, and a myriad of physical health problems. I’m not able to navigate Medicare or anything, I honestly just have panic attacks when trying to do anything to help myself. I’ve been depressed for nearly two decades and the little help I did get when I was on my parents insurance, wasn’t helpful because I didn’t get my true diagnoses until the end (when I hit 26, but my father changed all the info when I was 25 to try to force me to talk to him, I can’t have my abusive parents in my life.)
I don’t have any real-life friends, I know a few people online but they aren’t anyone in positions to help me in a significant way. I know the obvious answer “get a job” but I’m on disability because I can’t function and have nothing to help me. I’m sad and angry all the time, I have conditions in my feet that make it difficult to walk, it’s really hard just to remember to shower, let alone all the other things I’m supposed to do to stay alive.
Everyday is a battle against myself, to walk into the snowy mountains to get it over with, or keep going so my cat can keep being loved and cared for. He’s the only thing that kept me alive through the years of the abusive relationship. I fostered him from the shelter when I discovered he had ringworm and kept him cause he was so awfully shy. Like then, I still believe it would be hard to find a new home for him. I’ve tried many times to write up his description, to find him a home so I could finally die. But I can never do it. He’s my only reason for living, and this “family” has threatened to get rid of him because of his hair. I already had to give back the other cat I had because they said I could only bring one. So I hope you can see why I got very angry with them, I got snarky. But I guess that’s enough of a reason to want me on the street rather than in their home. Such a lovely Mormon family, great values.
So that’s my predicament. I have no one to help me, I can’t even help myself. Before I even thought to move in with them, I had given up, decided being homeless would be better than being beaten and raped all the time. I had plans to find something to OD on, I stayed with him that long because I preferred being violated by someone I knew, rather than a stranger. Now I’m at that same point that my family has put me at so many times, I’m no longer welcome because I don’t fit in. I’m not even disappointed about it, I was so not surprised by the announcement. To me, it was just a matter of time. But now with nowhere else to run, very little money and a cat that deserves a warm home, I’m at a loss of what to do. I think maybe it is for the best to finally find him a new home and take that final stroll into the mountains.
My name is Niki Wonoto. I am from Jakarta, Indonesia.
I am severely depressed & suicidal. I feel so alone, nobody cares, even if I die.
I’m 38 years old loser & failure. Maybe better to just die.
Greetings, fellow site members.
I realize that today is Suicide Prevention Awareness Month and, as many helpful folks like the ones on this website have helped me battle suicide, I want nothing more but to return the favor.
I have been battling bipolar depression for almost four years. I wish not to put it in any further detail, but as the months passed by, friends, hotlines, and random website folks like you guys have gradually convinced me that it just isn’t the answer. It actually does get better. And as much as these people successfully conveyed that message to me, I want to convey it to at least one person who needs it so the world has one less tragic death on its hands.
So, to anyone in this website tired of the struggles of life, wanting to leave this world… there is another way. There is still so much to live for. No matter how hated you may feel right now, if you do go, someone out there–be it your parents, a friend, or even a random bloke watching a YouTube tribute–WILL miss you or at least wish they could have done something to prevent it.
I’m here to talk. You can tell me your problem in the comments, or you can e-mail me at email@example.com (have no fear, this isn’t my primary email) and I’m pretty much awake all the time.
Thank you all 🙂
Warning: mentions of self harm and other sensitive content. I’ll try to be vague on certain words. sorry if it triggers you, this is to make you feel like you’re not alone.
My mother was forced down and forced into intercourse with my father, who she was with for 16 years at the time when she got pregnant with me. SHE HATED ME FOR IT! she attempted to get an abortion, then failed. My father even attempted to throw my mother out a window, and luck was on my side as they failed to do so.
Growing was equally as miserable for me. my father was abusive to my mother, brother, and myself. I later in my life found that he was cheating on my mother too – as I have 3 siblings from different mothers that are the same age as myself. My own family thought I was a curse onto all of them, so I was treated like one growing up. I had no choice in the matter; as I didn’t have the means to escape. I was tortured, beaten, raped, abused, forced into having sex with drug dealers before I even hit 14 years old too. I was locked inside cages for 9 hours at a time and forced to watch my father rape them too.
Every day was miserable for me, I would get forced into BEGGING my father to do things to me – and he’d threaten to do them to my brothers if I didn’t. mom wasn’t any help, as she would overdose on various illegal drugs; and would rent me out to pedophile drug dealers to ensure she’d get her fix.
I attempted suicide 9 times during my life time, three of those times I was actually declared legally dead and put on life support. My dad would make betting rings with my mother and a friend of his on when I’d finally actually do it. He even raped me without protection and got me pregnant at 13 years old, of course he forced me to abort it. It’s not as easy as “get up and call the police.” because what people don’t understand is… to make us more dependent on him he got us into massive amounts of debt. in fact, my mother had to ask him to let us go to school to begin with!
This would be the one thing I would contribute to saving my life. see, when I was laying there half dead on the floor and hearing my brothers scream, I came to a realization as I tried to tune it out with a song I heard playing on the radio…. he may have power over me and them now, he can take away everything about me. he can make me a shell of my former self, he can break me and break me again. he can make me feel like I’m nothing, but the one thing he COULDN’T take is the power I had within myself to protect my brothers from him. I decided that throwing my pride away to protect them was worth it. I started begging him to do things to me instead, and I would sneak in books and such into our cages and keep learning to focus on something rather than the pain. Eventually, I became fluent in 3 languages, 4 if you count American Sign Language.
I focused completely on my future as well as my brothers’ futures too, and we formed different ways of coping with our pain. then it happened, we got these small laptops from our school that had video cameras. my parents didn’t know, but I made a Facebook and reached out to my uncle. he asked about why they didn’t talk to him much, and at first … he didn’t believe me because “your father goes to church every Sunday and works as an engineer, my sister is a nurse for Christ’s sake!” and he put him on a high horse. I made a plan to prove it to him, I had him Skype me. my parents didn’t notice the camera was on, and my uncle caught my mother shoving my hand onto a pan that was JUST taken out of the oven followed by my father branding me again.
He found out about the massive debt he put us in to make us dependent on him. Now, my uncle had enough of that. he’s active duty army you see, so he gets paid a lot of money. he saved up for 2 years and I took a dead end job of working as a cleaner. we planned EVERYTHING in secret, and he helped me pay off ALL of our debt so that I could get us out of there. but that’s not all. he didn’t want us to go homeless, so he even got us plane tickets to come move in with him after proving to us by a DNA test and showing us his military ID.
We moved out on February 13th 2020. each of us have been going to trauma counseling. We also now have to get medical check ups once a month in the least due to all the permanent damage we got through various torture methods. I developed schizophrenia, severe PTSD, DID, paranoia, and I also get random tremors in my body that occur from the muscles in my body getting used to all the torture methods I’ve gone through. It was a HUGE struggle to survive, I only did so because I had to grovel and beg….
My message to the one(s) reading this is… please don’t give up. you may not be able to see it, but there’s a reason you’re suffering now. you’re growing so much stronger the longer you force yourself to stay alive. those scars on your body? the fat on it? the bones you may see? that’s your body. you have only one life, and people that love and depend on you would be devastated to lose you. please don’t throw the fight for the sake of being tired. I tried that so many times, you’re not doing anyone a favor. allow yourself to cry and let it out. I don’t care how “manly” or how “strong” you are, everyone has the urge to cry. cry all you want, and if that means for a few hours or even a few days – just do it. part of making yourself strong is the ability to accept and let your past scars be left where they belong, in the past. You are cared for by at least ONE person, even if it’s yourself. you’re beautiful in your own way, trust me. You’re hurting now, but the pain you feel is something that’s going to eventually make you into a person that you would want see when you face the mirror. all the scars you have are from the war you fight daily to make sure it doesn’t all end. despite everything, there has been some form of reason that you’ve been keeping yourself alive. for me, it was my brothers. for you… maybe it’s the possibility of having a future with someone that keeps you up. maybe it’s your pets, maybe it’s because it’s something small like you have to attend an event – let whatever positive thing it is be the reason you don’t throw the fight in… you’ve suffered this long, haven’t you? surely you can suffer as long as it takes to get yourself to a space where you’d be happy in. you deserve to feel happy, you deserve all the love and the care you could possibly ask for. <3
My tests say that I show extreme Alexithymia traits. Is that actually a thing? I don’t know. I don’t care about/for anyone. I just don’t give a fuck. I’m an awful person to even begin with. If you showed me a video of a child getting sawed, I’d stand stock-still. But if you showed me a video of an animal being abused, I’d flinch at a stroke. I don’t fucking understand myself. I hate humans. You could come to me crying, and I’d ask you to just fuck it and nothing more. I can’t help you with your emotional needs ‘cause I don’t relate. I haven’t truly loved anyone in all my life, and that’s just scary. I’m more in my head than in my heart. I don’t know if this is a boon or a bane. It’s like a two-edged sword, really. It’s just sad. Imagine ending up all alone because of this attribute… I don’t have a problem with that, but it’s funny I can’t have the normal things that normal people have. Can you believe that I’ve never felt butterflies in my stomach? I can never be okay.
They say tHe mEaNinG oF liFe iS lOvE, but what’s the meaning of my life when I don’t even love myself?
I’m unlucky. I can’t even begin to say how unlucky I’m. Maybe I just fuck myself up, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m fucked. I’ve nothing. I would top the school back-to-back in the mid-tests and mid-exams, but then my body would randomly decide to put my life in danger during RE/TEE. I had acute health complications, both physical and mental. I survived Varicella in grade 10 and Enteric flu in grade 12. I had only 30% attendance. Although, I still managed to score 97% (with two 100/100) and 92% tho, I didn’t top the school. That sure was embarrassing — note: I live in India with prying relatives around. It was time for college. I was hoping to get into IITs or go overseas – wasn’t able to do ‘em both as I couldn’t take JEE and SAT/ACT since I was fucking hospitalised again. I could’ve waited a year or so, but I was already running late for I did my nursery classes twice as I was mute. Although I’m now into one of the top 5 private universities of India (NIRF), it doesn’t really make me feel good. Oh, I also fucked up my college – consecutively fucking up my career. Same yada yada, I was a topper and a 9 pointer in 4/6 semesters yet, but my mental health got fucked real bad in the mid that I had to be immediately put in a psych ward. Well, that’s how I ended up with 8 backlogs by not attending the Winter 2018-2019 classes and exams. Upshot, I’ll be a timed-out student ‘cause of my arrears. I can’t as well clear ‘em on time for I hardly have only two semesters left, and unlike other universities here, our university requires us to redo the N grade courses for an entire fucking semester again by paying 6K/course. I thought I’d complete those due credits in the Summer I and II 2020 classes if they offered the courses I’ve N2 (<75% attendance) and N3 (absent to FAT) grades in, but thanks to Corona! No way I’d be there at the 2022 graduation ceremony. No way at all. Unlucky. So fucking unlucky. So, yes… timed-out and no on-campus placements for me. Surprise, mom – The 13-15L you spent on my useless degree is for naught, and your child is a stupid piece of shit, but you already know this. One may argue that marks don’t matter. Well, they sure don’t — but I was only good at one thing, and that was academics. I failed there as well. I’m not jealous, but the people that I helped with almost everything related to academics are way beyond me in life now. They’re all successful. Good for ‘em. But… don’t you think what’s happening to me is downright unfair? I’m just a waste of space, have always been. Everything has gone wrong in my life. Everything still goes wrong. I was born with (neonatal) Jaundice. Cerebral Palsy, Kernicterus, and DEATH were in order. They should’ve fucking let me die but no. 21 years later, death is still playing me. Still alive after all. Why? I don’t know. I want to die.
I don’t wanna fucking live anymore. I hope there’s no afterlife. I just want to die, and that is fucking it. If there was another realm or anything of the sort, I’d seriously be more fucked up than I’m now ‘cause I think the problem is not just with my body and my mind, but also with my soul – if there is any. I feel like some evil maggot has drilled a hole so deep in my skull that it is controlling every fucking thing that’s me. I just wanna be gone. Forever. I wanna die, and I don’t give a fuck about anyone. I don’t love anyone. I just can’t. Wait, it’s not what it seems like. I don’t want to die ‘cause I’m lonely or some shit like that. Not even close. I’ve people that actually love me bat-crazy, but I don’t give a solitary fuck about any of ‘em. Sure, I’ve helped ‘em with academics and still do, but that’s only ‘cause I’m condescending – Not because I like any of ‘em back. Heck, I don’t even reply to their messages most of the time. I’ve ignored everyone around me for almost a decade now. I wouldn’t even be surprised if they all hated me to the bone now. It’s understandable. I mean, who the fuck puts up with a shitty friend like me for years? It’s actually okay for I don’t seem to care even a tad. Anyway, I was the most successful kid at school. I was the consecutive topper for a decade. I was teachers’ favourite. Though I hated it, I was always surrounded by friends back in the days. I had the coolest of things; thanks to my mum! I was never bullied. I was never humiliated. I had a good run. Everything was A-OK except the fact that I could never be happy, no matter what. Nothing fucking mattered, and nothing matters. I can’t enjoy the things that normal people enjoy. Maybe I just never intended to try ‘em out? I don’t know. I’m 21 now. I never danced, never partied, never smoked, never had sex. Nothing really. I guess it’s just the way I’m. It’s not rocket science. Shit’s simple – I’m fucked up beyond repair. That is all it is. Mind you, I’m the shittiest person you’ll ever meet. I’m not even kidding. I don’t hate anyone more than I hate myself. I wanna go. I really wanna.
I OD’d on my psychotropic (/psychiatric) pills in 2019. ‘Twas a heavy overdose and my pills were strong and of very high dosages. I was naturally almost sure that I’d wind up dead. But guess what? I woke up in the morning. Not in a good state at all, but I awoke. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t utter a solitary word. Hell, I couldn’t even see things. I was cold. I’ve a long history of mental illnesses – BD (+ Psychosis — Schizoaffective disorder) and various PDs, so my folks figured out that I must’ve once again yanked some suicidal sh_t when I didn’t answer their calls. I guess they must’ve checked the locked medicine cabinet to find out that the pills were missing from it, and the lock was picked. They stormed into my room only to see me half-alive, half-dead. I was soon rushed to the emergency room. Gastric lavage was carried out. Ewald tubes were let down my entrails. Cannulas and tubes all over – IV and NG tubes. Oh, did I mention fecal incontinence? Pathetic. That was a nightmare. That really was. I’ve pulled through seizures, tremors, and H(a)ematemesis. You might be wondering why I pulled it again. Right? Well, I was so f_cking desperate, and I was actually dumb enough to redo it. I was that desperate to die. I still am. But only now, I’ve learnt the lesson that overdosing on your pills isn’t a cool way to go. It’s painful. It’s humiliating. It’s hardly successful.
Right to die must be a thing. Assisted suicide must be a thing. (Update: Heard from a Swiss friend of mine that it’s actually a thing in Switzerland — Exit, Dignitas presumably offer the services… Why not here?) I know when my mind and body can take no more. I know how it feels to be so mentally f_cked when nothing actually is wrong in your life (or is everything?). I’m convinced that killing myself will be the kindest thing I can ever do to myself. So, I will not stop you with the lame a_s TED talks. However, do not overdose on your psychiatric pills… or try to slit your ulnar or radial arteries, please. I’ve around 30+ sutures on just my left arm, and I’m still alive. Over-the-counter P500/P650s OD in 2017, and I’m still alive — N-AC treatment. Sucks. Maybe I’m just a loser, but that’s for another post! Good day(?)
Dying is the kindest thing I can do for myself. I don’t particularly want to, sometimes I wonder if I really was a terrible person, I should stay alive. It’s brutal, and the perfect punishment. I know I can do things with my life. I don’t think low of myself usually, I just am who I am. I’m pretty resourceful, I can make things work. Which is why I’m thinking about this. I can make it work, this is the kindest thing I can do!
I’ve never met someone with the same life story as me. Someone who’s had so many unrelated horrors happen. It makes sense and yes I must just have terrible luck, but I’ve only met people with parts of the story, not all of it. Why? One way or another, they didn’t make it. Dead somehow. Because life will just get worse. If I don’t do this, someone else will. I don’t want to die afraid, no one will care but me, but I don’t want to. I want to make sure my cat makes it to the right place, she’s mean, no one will adopt her and she’s getting older and doesn’t deserve to be randomly put in a strange place. Assuming someone got into my apartment soon enough…
I haven’t figured out what’s wrong with me to encourage really normal people to hurt me. Why so many people will attack/assault me. It’s not like I didn’t learn, it’s not like I’m passive, either. I have a voice, I have muscle. Never mattered. I know it will happen again… people tell me this stuff isn’t my fault and no one will tell me if there’s something that encourages others to steal everything from me. Like… okay. So I can’t stop this? I don’t want anyone to experience this, most importantly, myself. Why should I stay somewhere where I will be victim to insane violence? Do we not tell people who are in abusive relationships to leave? This is just life for me. Why can’t anyone see it’s an act of utmost self respect and love? The kindness? To be in charge of a peaceful passing, knowing everything will be taken care of, knowing I will be safe.
Hello, I see that this is a site where people share how sad they are and there are some helpful people out there. I hope I can get some nice feedback from others. I want to start off by saying that I am 21 years old. My grandma had passed away and it took a big toll on me. My family too of course, but for me I wanted to die. Ive attempted to kill myself and this sweet genuine old lady passed away and in my eyes it wasn’t her time to go. It honestly should’ve been me. Recently I’ve been kicked out of my house by my parents due to a big fight that went on. To sum that up, it was built up sadness and anger that took over me and I just blew it all at them which ended up me getting kicked out. Most of it was towards my mom..So now, I live with my grandpa. I don’t like living here very much but I got to bring along my dog who I see as my literal life line. He’s honestly my best friend. I never had a good relationship with my mom, I really feel like we always were together so much and it kind of bothered me? Because we never actually got to have a good time, we just always fought even over the littlest things. I was also diagnosed with depression a longtime ago. I overdosed in the summer of 2018 on Benadryl because I was ready to die. It feels like nobody cares about me. That feeling has never left. Not one time.When I overdosed all I got was my family yelling at me. Nothing but them telling me how dumb I am and how selfish I was for trying to kill myself. It made me feel worse and to this day I think about what they said and it makes me feel bad still. I developed a disorder called TTM, also known as Trichotillomania. This developed when I was around 7 years old. Its a hair pulling disorder which causes you go to bald depending how severe your disorder is. Its went away for around middle school and my high school years but unfortunately, it has gotten worse for me AGAIN. When im sad I seem to do it and I only pull the hair from my head so I have such bad scaring and a sensitive scalp because of it. I feel ugly, and seeing my bald spots make me feel uglier. You’d think I’d want to stop but I can’t. Sometimes I don’t even know im pulling until its too late and I have such a big clump of hair next to me. It hurts to see it but I just feel helpless. I get told to take my medicine which I am now taking Fluoxetine, and I feel it doesn’t do much. I get told to up my dosage but that doesn’t seem to do anything for me either, I really have no hope in doing anything. My mom has repeatedly told me that I “wouldn’t be so sad” had I taken my medicine every singled. I PROMISE you, I have and It has not helped me. Ive switched to many different anti depressants and the one that was super effective but in a negative was was Duloxetine. It made me feel no emotion and I was just tired all of the time. Now im back on Fluoxetine and it doesn’t help me either. I’m just so sad and I don’t know what to do anymore. I get yelled at for going out to walk my dog, get yelled at if I go get food for just my dog or just myself, and the people I live with just always want me to bring them stuff when im not able to buy 3 other people things all the time in the household. Ive been saving my money up to get a new place but it always gets depleted because they find a way to make me feel so bad about not spending money on them and its making me even more sad because I feel like just stuck. I started to cut myself again and I want to hurt myself so damn badly and I can feel myself everyday wanting to hurt myself again. I need help but im afraid to be sent away. I’m honestly really at my wits end. I’m about to overdose again. And the only person that I know will care is my dog. It hurts that I don’t want to leave him but I feel like I’m not going to get anywhere with how im feeling. I’m sorry that what I wrote was a lot
My closest attempts were when I felt useless. When the sinking I had felt in my chest, when the lack of energy, and utter hopelessness within me had no reason to live.
More recently, I thought I was doing better. I thought that I had won over these feelings, conquered them; sending them back to the depths of wherever they came.
I guess that was probably because I had gotten a job that I love. One that I thought was too much to handle, one that brought countless nights of stress to me… but now, under this quarantine, I feel myself slipping back into old habits.
I expect to still have my job when this is all over. It isn’t that I feel as though I have no future, in fact I feel very much so as though I do. Rather, it’s that no future feels worth living for. Or maybe they all do, but my will to live is just that weak.
I stay for those I care about; for those who I know deeply care for me. I couldn’t bear to hurt them.
But every night, I go to sleep wishing so deeply to die that night. Suicide is something so ingrained in to me, something I want so deeply, that only when I have a distraction that completely exhausts me can I begin to forget it.
It isn’t even always for the pain. Even if I feel fine, I just want to die. I just want to take my own life so badly.
Even with the will to stay alive for those I love, I find myself tempted to make another attempt. Each day, it becomes a more difficult fight to win. Just like it was back then.
I crave my own death more than I crave almost anything else. I suppose there is one thing I crave more… Which is a life of traveling, I suppose. But I’d hurt just as many people, if not many more, if I took that route. I think it would end up haunting me in the end because of that, even if I did decide to go down that path.
And then I’d be right back here, again. In this sinking pit, wishing that the life would leave my body each, and every night. Fighting off the urge to take it myself. Each, and every night.
idk whats wrong with me. no matter what i do nothing is good enough. I have a d in calc and im questioning gender again and march 15 is coming up. i planned to die two years ago on that day and fuck. everything hurts and i wanna relapse and i’ve lost all motivation to stay clean or do anything and fuck. i just want everything to be over.
I’ve never thought I would be writing this. But I’m going to kill myself ass soon as I gather enough amitriptyline.
I’ve had a very happy childhood and very loving parents. I have always been a little shy, but I’ve managed to make some good friends. I was always very introspective and I’ve always been the type of person who thinks that an unexamined life is not worth living. I am a woman, by the way.
When I started college I had a bit of an emotional breakdown and was prescribed some antidepressants that didnt work, but I never ever thought I would kill myself. I studied both biology and music. I love biology and I love science with such a pasion it makes me teary to just think about it sometimes.
So I have loved ones and I have a pasion, but 2019 kicked me hard. Firstly, a weird rash appeared on my entire face making me a complete hard-to-look-at monster. Dermatologists said it was incurable, so I had to get used to the idea that I would never have a partner (or a man interested in me) and probably would never have children. When I thought I had hit rock bottom, it turned out that the rash was a product of another disease that brings me constant and painful headaches and trouble seeing. But thats not the end of it, I also have a problem in my stomach that makes my throat hurt every moment of the day. Its been 4 months of this nightmare.
Ive been to numerous doctors and nobody seems to know what to do, and they keep telling me that what I have has no cure. But I have to keep living with it.
How am I supposed to live with contant pain and with a hideous face? Every single one of my dreams would be impossible now.
I’ve had the courage of telling some of my friends that Im planning on commiting suicide and they all just tell me to keep waiting until things get better. Things will never get better. I’m an invalid watching the whole world have fun and fulfill their dreams, while I’m at home in constant pain that will never stop and knowing that I will never have a significant other.
I feel betrayed by life, and worst of all, I feel terrible I didn’t enjoy my healthy years as much as I could’ve. So much time was spent studying and working, preparing myself for a future that was never meant to come. It breaks my heart.
One thousand, one hundred and fifteen days have gone by since we discovered you were no longer a part of this universe, our universe. It has gotten easier to process but it’s still not easy. The shock of it never ceases. It is still surreal. How can I summarize in words the cluster of pain we feel everyday given your absence? Let’s see. The reality that you are missing and missed our daughter and son’s 16th birthdays, his phenomenal culinary skills, his dream of becoming a chef and his fascination with living in Japan someday, our daughter’s early high school graduation, 18th birthday, first year of college and her being on the honor roll with a 3.81 GPA and her extraordinary producing and deejaying talents, is saddening. The reality that you will not be present for other monumental moments in their lives such as college graduations, weddings, births is even more heartbreaking. The thought that our beautiful daughter and handsome son haven’t had a male role model since you left, causes tears to well in my eyes almost every single day. When our son comes to me asking questions only a man can authentically answer, I do my best to fill your shoes but I shouldn’t have to. When our daughter tells me that a young man she’s dating reminds her of you in the way he protects her, it’s bittersweet. Bitter for obvious reasons and sweet because she at least has someone who, for that moment, is a positive reminder of you. You left us to pick up a million shattered pieces. You left me to raise two human beings that we created together, on my own and it hasn’t always been a breathtakingly gorgeous emotional walk in the park. There have been and will be countless nights I shut myself in and weep silently in my pillow so not to cast any more of a crushing burden on our children. Why couldn’t you have been strong enough to pull through the rough times? Why couldn’t you have in the darkest of hours, seen their four impressionable eyes staring back at you, counting on you to be the protector as you’d always been? Where did the tragic turn in the journey begin and ultimately end? Why did you let go of this thing called life? Was there something I could have done or, anyone for that matter, to change your mind? Is it unfair of me to call you weak, curse your ashes and regret the day I met you? Absolutely because obviously, you felt an indescribable hopelessness in which I simply cannot fathom. This tragedy has taught me, albeit a process, not to project so much but to lead with compassion, understanding and empathy. One never knows how rough someone’s terrain is until they too walk on that very terrain in that someone’s shoes. Just because there’s a smile on someone’s face doesn’t always mean their spirit shares that very sentiment. Who am I to judge you? Will I still have my moments of anger, sadness, confusion and a whole bunch of feelings and emotions I sometimes choose not to control just so I can allow myself to feel organically, versus distract myself and become numb? The answer is a resounding yes. I’m human and I’ll always wish you were here to see our babies, who are now young adults. Watching them triumphantly maneuver through this cold world we live carrying the legacy of you not being here on their backs, assures me they are resilient and in time, they will be just fine. They are truly champions and my hero and heroine. I cannot help but acknowledge and credit you though for most of what you instilled in them during the brief time you had in their world, which contributed to the stand up and strong human beings that they are. Thank you for that because outside of God’s love, those very attributes are the things that have enabled them to keep moving forward and upward, even when the light is so dim at the end of the tunnel. Not a day goes by in which we don’t share a story and/or a laugh about you and despite it all, you are terribly missed. I know that it will never be easy but each day, it will get easier. Continue to rest in peace.
Hi guys, I finished ‘My heart and other black holes’ a few minutes ago. I was reading it second time. Why? Because I feel so bad. I know that I have a lot of mental health problems… yeah… who haven’t here… but sometimes is worse. You know this time in your life (day, week, month) when you feel worse. Worse than normal. I don’t know what I want to say in this post. Maybe I need some space to write about my feelings. I study abroad in London from September. That was my dream, this is my dream. I had been thinking about it since primary school and now I am here. I should be happy propably, yeah… but I am not, not at all (and sorry my English sometimes sucks but I try my best okay xD). I am on good Uni, I have friends (here not many but I have not problem with meeting new people and I have a lot of friends from my country so we can write on Messenger all the time), I like my body/face/apparence, I have a lot of plans for my future- I know what I want to be. So why I am not satisfied? Why I feel so blue? I cry and think about comitte suicide a lot. But I don’t wanna die. Because if I die I won’t be able to realize my plans. I’ll never be satisfied.
I’ve pushed many people away. Maybe I can end it and no one would care. Maybe this is a cry for help, or me ranting. Either way, I hope this pain will stop.
You also must be ‘smart’ especially in terms of knowing how to make money. And often times, that also means you also have to be opportunistic, follow the system & rules (just like everybody else), even be cunning, sly, ruthless, brash, full of tricks, greedy, selfish, ready to step on other people who are ‘weaker’ (eg: poorer, etc).
Money is everything in our modern society today, unfortunately. It’s all about money nowadays. And if you can’t beat the system, then you have to join them. Everyday you are forced to survive, or for survival. And if you’re not strong enough to follow the system/rules, then too bad, either you will lose, get left out, get sidelined, trampled, kicked in a dirt, become a loser or failure in society, or you will die because you can’t survive.
Maybe life is just not for everyone. Maybe some of us are not meant to live in this world, society, existence, or whatever it is. Maybe it’s all really random and nihilistic, ie: some will live, and some will die. Just like ants, some will survive, and some will be killed, can’t survive, got unfortunate/bad luck, and die.
Life is depressing. Society is depressing. This world is depressing. Even all this whole existence thing is just depressing, mundane/boring, very limiting, sick, pointless/meaningless (for some people who really realize it), and honestly, everything is just so stupid.