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Bereta_Eder
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death should get people very optimistic. afterwards there's the everlasting nothing, so you might as well live and have fun and whatever or do nothing whatever, but its always better
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Bereta_Eder
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actually the optimism comes from the fact that's there's nothing to look forward to. That makes anything better than nothing.
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Dr Strangelove
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Oh great! So instead fo working for a better world you're going to work towards ending it? You're going to go VeHEMent one step further?
Hey! Here's an idea that should perk you up! Why not start a webpage devoted to that very idea? Ask people how they can each further the effort to bring the world to an end!
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Bereta_Eder
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Then why dont u go and do silly things?
and see how they turn out.
might be fun and even if it isnt, you can consider yourself dead already so it wouldnt matter.
im full of bright ideas.
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Bereta_Eder
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test the limits so to speak
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Bereta_Eder
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bah the world will not end.
bad dog has no death
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Bereta_Eder
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i think that's very very difficult
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Dom Pedro II
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The College of New Jersey
Nov 1999
time: 05:32
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Right now, or rather since I came home from school, it hasn't been just a passing boredom with existence. During the good points in the day, I'm lucky to feel that way. At this point in my life though the usual feelings are bitterness, anxiety, and anger.
I mean, its just amazing... this summer, I was soaring. I actually had a genuine desire to be alive. Things were good. Things with me and Dana were great, and that was the problem. I foolishly let that be enough for me... I let one person be a reason for me to live, and that is just plain dumb.
I mean, think of it this way, the last few years of my life have pretty much been that I had no desire to live, but no real drive to kill myself either. It's like, if I was in a situation where a truck was barreling towards my car, I wouldn't exactly try very hard to get out of the way. This summer, I would've tried a lot harder... and after September... I was cruising for trucks.
Without getting too much into the nitty, gritty of it all, this girl was a HUGE mind****. She always was, but for some reason, she was good for a few months and we had no problems. Things were great. And I actually broke up with her, only to find out two days later that she had been pushing me to break up with her because she liked two other guys. One of the guys was this guy from her home, and she said she really wanted to be with him and that she wouldn't have wanted to end it with me if it wasn't for him.... lie #2341. I was willing to stand behind that, but as usual, that was just another one of her little escapes from reality. And the spiraling just continued for me. And she kept playin' me anyway, stringing me along making me think she just wanted to be friends but at the same time doing some very unfriend like things... and then treating me like not even a friend at other times. I mean, I didn't want her back. Not at any time would I have gotten back with her, but still.
It eventually got to be too much to handle. My grades crashed and burned, and her damn games continued. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and I withdrew from the semester and came home. I mean, I had no hope of recovering my grades at that point not to mention what she was doing to my head... I had already decided to kill myself at one point. Didn't tell anybody, was just going to do it and let them find my body the next morning. Nobody knew about that one... Then I tried to run away, and Dana caught me and said she'd call the cops if I didn't stop. Given that I was directly in front of campus police, I figured I wasn't going to get too far.
So I went home, and that was even worse for me. Because now I had no job, I had left school for the semester, and I had no girl. I probably could not have felt like a bigger waste. Every night, I'd get into bed with this thought in my mind: "Oh good... Another day to look forward to tomorrow..."
They put me back on my old meds, but it didn't help much. It didn't have enough time. On October 20th, I talked to her again (I knew I shouldn't have been), and she told me that she missed me, that she was home during the weekend and she kept feeling like she should be talking to me because every night during the summer she called me before she went to bed. And I felt good about that because the thought that she was regretting her decision just perked me up a little bit... and my therapist was pretty sure from my description of things that she suffers from Borderline Personality Disorder. That made me feel good too. And then October 23rd, I talked to her again, and she told me that she was "with" this new guy now(i.e. screwing), a mutual "friend" of ours from school... the OTHER guy she liked. In spite of the fact that she specifically said she wouldn't get with him. I don't even want to get into that whole drama there... But oh, that was a beautiful conversation. I don't think I've been that venomous in quite some time. She played the brick wall and pretended not to notice... usual passive-aggressive behavior on her part.
When I got off the phone with her, I went downstairs and tried to eat dinner, but I felt sick and so I went back upstairs and laid down. I tried to calm myself and tell myself that all I needed to do was call somebody up and talk to them and explain and they'd help me and everything would be alright. I called everybody I knew. Not a single person was around. Not one.
And for some reason, this struck me almost like a divine hint. And rather emotionlessly, I got up, almost without even thinking, went down into the basement, got a razor, tested it on my hand and found that it was quite able and went back upstairs. I sat down and starting writing a simple letter. Again, there was almost no emotion. You'd think I was getting ready to go to work in the morning or something...
And then I did the stupid thing. I called Dana. I figured if I left a message on her machine, she wouldn't get it until it was too late. I didn't say specifically what I was doing in the message, but there were enough hints that she would get it. Nobody else might, but she would.
Well, I was dead wrong. She called back in less than three minutes while I was still writing my note. She asked me what I did, and I said I had cut myself, and she said she was calling the cops. I amended that and said I didn't cut myself really (just the little cut on my hand from the test). And she asked why the hell I'd say that then. And I said because I was going to. In a brilliant move of reverse psychology she said, "Fine! Do it!" And I said, "Ok, bye." And then she said "NO! I'm calling the police." She called them right there while I was on the phone with her. I cursed at her and hung up.
Not to be so easily beaten, I grabbed the note and a pen, took the razor and left the house lying to my father and saying I was going out with a friend. I got in the car and started driving. I didn't know where to go, but I eventually decided to go to the Hudson River, sit on the banks... there's some very quiet areas there and the skyline is beautiful.
I called her back and told her that she wasn't going to stop me. She asked where I was going and this time I was a bit smarter and I refused to tell her. She kept trying to talk me out of it, and I kept taunting her saying she couldn't stop me. Then I got an incoming call from my friend Kate.
Kate was laughing and joking around having no idea what was happening, and she said she saw Dana in the hall and gave her a nasty look. (They don't like each other, Kate especially because of what Dana did to me).
And I said to her, "Sorry, kid, but I won't be coming down this weekend like I'd planned. In fact, I'm not coming down any weekend."
She asked what I meant, and I told her. And her response was "Please, God, don't do this! I love you so much!" That was it... that broke my resolve... If I had been pretty cold-blooded about it up till then, that was the turning point.
Kate made me promise that I wasn't going to do anything else. I did. Then she said she was coming up. Her, my friend Ben, and my friend Amanda. I gave Amanda directions to my house and told them I'd meet them at the house.
So now I had an hour to kill, and I went to the river anyway. I finished writing the note. I hadn't fully decided to keep my promise yet. The number I did on my wrist would prove that. None of the cuts were dangerous though. Scratches basically, but that was only because I had made a promise and I didn't feel right about going back on it. I wanted to do it... and now I saw how remarkably easy it was. It didn't hurt at all, and whatever pain there might have been was numbed by the cold of that night.
I called my friend Avi, and we talked for about an hour. See, suddenly everybody was available...  I went back to the car, and I saw that my mother was calling. I was actually surprised that I had not gotten a call from home yet since my father had been home when I left... That's when I found out the fun news that there was a warrant out for my arrest. I agreed to come home, and I got there with just enough time to give my parents some kind of an explanation of what the hell happened before my friends arrived.
Then the cops came, and I was taken away to the hospital. I was spared the humiliation of handcuffs because I went quietly, but I was not spared the humiliation of having one of the EMTs be an acquaintance from high school. And then it was a fun 4-5 hour wait in the emergency room before I finally got a bed in the psychiatric ward for the night. And I spent the next week there... if you ever wanted to kill youself, think about the psychiatric ward where they put botched attempts... you don't ever want to go there. It's not a happy place to be. Especially so when you're 19, and the next youngest person to you is in their early 40s. But we helped each other out. Everybody, patients and staff alike were very accomodating.
And that is the story of my suicide fiasco. To this day though, the only real regret that I have about it is that I made that phone call. Because if I hadn't, I wouldn't be here right now, and I'd still rather have that. And everybody knows that this is how I feel about it, but what are they going to do? They can't MAKE me want to live. I can't even make myself want to live. We can try, and that's the best we can hope for.
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David Floyd
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The bottom of a large bottle of beer
Jan 1970
time: 05:32
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Quite frankly, I think that all of these remarks about suicide being selfish are asinine. If I have a terminal illness and I'm in a lot of pain, I'm not going to suffer. If my family doesn't like that choice, too damn bad - but why should I suffer physically to spare them from suffering emotionally, ESPECIALLY when they are STILL going to suffer a few months down the road? The way I see it, if my death is going to cause people pain, it's going to cause them pain either now or later, so that means the only opinion that matters is my own, and how much pain *I* want to feel.
Now, I'm only talking about terminal illnesses here - I don't think suicide is a good idea for emotional issues and the like.
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24-11-2003 04:40
)
. I couldn't help but mention how much more money I'm making now than I was back then, and how much more successful I am. She wanted to get back together, but I wasn't keen on that idea. She dumped me twice before. I'm not going to let that happen a third time. She died a few months later in a traffic accident.
. And even if it doesn't, I want to see how ****ed up the world gets, and then I will laugh. yes, I will laugh. The sadistic **** I am will be satisfied in seeing how the communists and pinkos have ****ed up this planet.
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