I am quite serious contemplating killing myself. I haven’t written in a while because I don’t seem to care about anything anymore, including writing.
Some of these are things I’ve said and others come from other people but they all basically fit me.
“I am a relatively simple person in a complex set of circumstances.”
“You are so pretty when you are broken”
“I was once asked if I was homicidal and the honest answer was no death is not nearly as pretty as suffering.”
” It feels like sex. It feels like really good, sweaty, animal, oh-good-god-do-that-again sex.”
“An unhappy, smaller-than-should-be-possible ball of Sam.”
“Here we are negotiating like proper psychopaths”
“You think the worst thing is to end up all alone. It’s not, it is ending up with people who make you feel all alone” (robin williams)
And now for those of you who like pretty pictures:
So I am single, older, and not rich. I have no children. People wonder why I am two steps from suicide on any given day. Well here it is, I took care of my father as he got old and eventually couldn’t do things for himself. I am currently taking care of my mother as she gets old and can do less for herself. What do you honestly think will happen to me when I get old and can no longer do things for myself?
I will end up in an institution because I can’t take care of myself, laying on a mat on the ground because I can no longer stand and am a fall risk, force fed canned, pureed food for the rest of my miserable life, listening to the screams of patients who are at least fortunate enough to have lost their minds. Or is the horror more real to them because they are crazy. This is the reality of what happens to the people who no one wants and my whole life no one has wanted me, I am not deluding myself enough to think my death will be any better.
Ordinarily I at least post a picture but if you don’t know what goes on in low income nursing homes…
Look up pressure sores, elder abuse, and nursing home abuse and switch to images.
There is a point when you realize you are going to die. Not from any disease or from an accident but by your own hand. That point in my life came a long time ago and that is not a bad thing. Some people think it is but the right to die is the only thing that you actually control. I realize that the people around me would be better off without me in their lives and I realize that I will never be a complete functioning person.
People say that there are things to live for but there really isn’t. There is no point to it.
I have read thousands of questions that boil down to one thing, I am in pain, how do I stop it. Search for something like “How do I commit suicide?” or “How do I die?” and you will find hundreds of people asking this question. The truth is those who are thinking about it are suffering. Yes, this is a bad thing and suicide is not the answer to most questions, until it is.
I am not going to say don’t do it, nor am I going to say that is the answer, because it is a personal choice. I have always said that suicide is the solution when the pain out weighs the ability to cope. Unfortunately this happens. It is fact and no one seems to admit that sometimes this is the answer. I am not talking about when you are a teenager and want attention or when your boyfriend breaks up with you, or when someone close to you dies. I am talking about when there is some much pain that you can’t see a way out. When you know that things will only get worse or worse yet stay the same and there is no answer to when it will stop. I am talking about when there is no end in sight and not likely to be one without killing yourself.
How many people have you asked for an answer and the only one that they could give you is that time heals, but time can’t heal something that has always been wrong. If you try things will get better… they say this not knowing how hard you’ve tried or what you have gone through to make it stop.
So sometimes you carver yourself up with a razor or engage in dangerous behavior because it gives you a moment of relief and no one can take that away. That is your choice. No one else’s just as the choice to end your suffering is yours.
Now here most people would tell you it’s okay it will get better or all you have to do is seek help and you will be okay. But it is never okay and it never gets better and every time you try one of their suggestions it only gets worse but you still try. Some say pray to god and he/she/it will help but when you pray there is no answer. When you take their drugs it doesn’t help it just makes you sleepy or angry or worse yet apathetic. When pain is all there is all you want to do is to make it stop.
Unfortunately because of liability I can’t tell you how to die. I wish I could because there are several ways that are very effective but that all depends on how you want to die. All of the people who tell you, you don’t have to and there is something to live for are not living your life. A life that only looks bleak and only gets worse and the only end you can see is misery and then eventual death with no one around and no one who cares because truly most people only care about themselves. They don’t care that you are suffering, they don’t care that you would do anything to stop it or that no matter what it is not going to get better. I am sure there will be people who will say no don’t do it. I have found that these people don’t get it.
They don’t understand that there is nothing that makes it better and very little that doesn’t make it worse. In my opinion you deserve the right to die, you deserve a way to make it stop. We euthanize animals that are in pain and suffering why not people. I don’t understand it anymore than they understand the need to make it stop before something worse than an neat suicide.
There are several things in my life that will only get worse. It will happen and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it will. I will be trapped even more so than I am now. There are options with a little research and perseverance. It only takes a bit of abstract research. For all of those that find this know at least there is one person that understands it and won’t give you platitudes about how it gets better when you talk to someone or that everything will change with this drug or that. It’s a constant struggle that you will go through. They don’t get it because they have never felt it.
I am one of those people who just wants it to stop. I think constantly about a car accident, they happen everyday or a killer that just happens to find me. I have even offered an open invitation to anyone who wants to kill me and do me a favor. Unless you know what that is like don’t give meaningless advice. Chances are if you are serious about dying drugs, therapy, or changes in your life won’t stop you from feeling the darkness. I know this was rambling and ultimately depressing but the fact is there are people out there that are better off dead. I am one of them, not that I am ready yet but I will be soon. People break and there is nothing you can do to stop them.
As always feel free to comment and tell me what you think. I will revisit this subject soon, but tonight I am just too damn tired of those who preach without ever knowing that it is not going to help.
And I leave you with this for those who like it:
It is funny that people respond more to the rehashed photos and sayings that I include rather than what I am actually saying. This happens here as well as in reality. What is really funny about the whole thing is my soul is being flayed alive in a parody of hell on earth. Don’t worry I don’t feel it anymore.
Not even the fact that I went from being relatively OK and dealing with it to a full blown psycho in the space of weeks seems to bother anyone. Maybe that’s because I hide well in every realm but here and the world that used to live inside my head. The true difference between a psychopath and a sociopath is that one doesn’t feel the difference between right and wrong and the other knows the difference and just doesn’t care. Which do you think I am becoming?
How long can a person not feel before they become amoral. Pain teaches us what to avoid or in my case what feels the best. It is how I cope with all of the other stuff sometimes through sex or on the edge of a knife. Without pain we don’t avoid the things we normally would. Yes, I am more than a little bit insane but I am good at seeing things for what they really are. I am above all else honest with myself and others to a fault. It gets me into trouble more often than not.
It is not that I don’t know it hurts others it is I just don’t care. I know that on some level I should and I once did but that was in the endless stretch of time that I fondly classify as before. What is really ironic is the same thing that makes me so ruthless as makes me more capable. Faster, harder, more calculating than I ever was even at my best. Most noticeable is that my aim is better and in speaking, writing, hunting, and fighting I am much sharper and everything is clearer now that I am not fettered by emotion or empathy. I sleep less, eat less, drink less, and am generally vibrating with adrenaline all the time. I can make practical logical choices despite the consequences to other people.
I am finding that there are a lot of things that are unneeded and most people do things that are just contrary all the time. Sometimes what I say is mistaken for malice but for the most part it is because I just don’t understand why it bothers them. I should and I am sure I used to but its just not there anymore. Is this better? If you look at it in terms of efficiency it seems so or would if it were not so very wrong. I could very easily become the killer that I always knew was inside me and is probably buried deep inside us all. I introduced myself to that particular darkness a long time ago. So here is the equation which is greater the need to kill or the fact that I used to think it was wrong even if I knew they deserved to die. Its simple math or it should be. Shouldn’t it?
I am watching, standing back as little bits of my soul are flayed and have long since given up praying for it to stop. I can hear the bits that once made me who I am shrieking in pain as they are torn, shredded and tortured until there is nothing left and I have to admit its beautiful, much like pain is, or the razors edge is.
I know the damage I do to myself is viewed as wrong but I don’t care
I know that I am just wrong and have gone so far from OK that even I can see it but I can’t seem to bring myself to care
I know that what I am thinking probably enough to get me locked up or worse but it doesn’t bother me anymore
It probably should
I know that I am searching for something but I don’t know what or what will happen when I find it
I know I crossed a line somewhere and I did it on purpose and I don’t care that I did
I know after they tried to help I became different, something new and they didn’t care
They played in my head once too often, their own private sandbox, prodding because I am an unusual case, tearing things up with their clumsy fumbling. They thought they were helping, making me face something without realizing that I already had. Never thinking that it would turn me into something dark, desperate, and hungry. It isn’t facing something that’s the issue I already knew what was down there. They just let it out. I would say god help me but god help them is more appropriate.
I don’t own Lucifer nor would I really ever want to… Angel, Morning Star, Prince of Darkness and all.
Lucifer sat staring out over the windswept rock. It was a time of peace for him even after he’d fallen. Breaking dawn had always been his favorite time of day and the rocky Irish coast his favorite place to be. There was something about the spectacular beautiful display of dawn over the staggering gray of the cliffs and the deadly swirling darkness below. This day he arrived here just before dawn a heavy mist clung to the rocky cliff hiding the sharp rocks and swirling water below. He waited peacefully for the dawn chorus to begin. As the first hint of sun hit the horizon he took a breath and began to sing.
“While the moon her watch is keeping,
All through the night
While the weary world is sleeping
All through the night
O’er thy spirit gently stealing
Visions of delight revealing
Breathes a pure and holy feeling
All through the night “
He smiled adopting an Irish lilt to his voice as he sang watching the gray start to seep from the sky.
“Though I roam a minstrel lonely
All through the night
My true harp shall praise sing only
All through the night
Love’s young dream, alas, is over
Yet my strains of love shall hover
Near the presence of my lover
All through the night”
He closed his eyes enjoying the feeling of the soft breeze and sweet sound of the ocean below, rocking gently in an unheard rhythm.
The girl stared at him. He was the most stunning thing she’d ever seen. Soft black hair hung down just past his shoulders and was tied back with a black ribbon. He seemed to move with the song he sang his voice sending chills through her with its soft beauty. She watched his back expand as his chest rose when he began the next verse. Muscles rippled even through the linen shirt he wore.
“Hark, a solemn bell is ringing
Clear through the night
Thou, my love, art heavenward winging
Home through the night
Earthly dust from off thee shaken
Soul immortal shalt thou awaken
With thy last dim journey taken
Home through the night”
She hadn’t realized that she’d moved forward as he sang until she realized she was standing at the edge of the cliff beside where he was sitting. She reached out to touch his cheek to brush away the tear she saw there. Her hand hovered beside his face the strands of black hair that had escaped its tie sliding over it.
“You’re song is beautiful don’t stop singing,” she said quietly as he ended the last note. A soft peaceful smile played against his face.
“There is no more to sing,” She couldn’t help but think that his speaking voice shined as much as his singing voice. Her heart broke at its sound. His eyes still closed he turned toward her voice as she spoke. She wondered if his eyes were as beautiful as the rest of him. She was inexplicably drawn to him. She closed her eyes for a moment attempting to remember how she got there. Why she left her warm home before dawn because of the sound of his voice? She shook her head confused for a moment. He reached out and ran his thumb along her delicate cheek sighing softly as he did. A soft frown flickered over his features as he did the unthinkable. He opened his eyes and she screamed stumbling backward her foot catching on the edge of the cliff.
Lucifer drew in a breath as the catalog of her sins flooded his mind. She was ruined by the shepherd’s kisses and chose to lay with him before she’d been married. She’d done this willingly and over again. A sad smile crossed his lips as he watched the beautiful young girl fall still staring into the endless obsidian pool of his eyes. Only when she disappeared into the mist and the violent waves and rocks below did he close them. For a moment he’d forgotten it had been so long since he sang. He’d forgotten that only sinners could hear him sing and only sinners and demons would be drawn to the sound of his voice.
Tears slipped down his cheeks he’d only wanted a moment’s peace before the fight started. He’d only wanted to relax for just a moment after years in the cage. He sighed again stretching out his black wings. The shining feathers damp with the mist glittered. Strong muscles flexed as he prepared to take flight. The darkness of his position settled around him like a cloak as he took wing
I am extremely disappointed in a variety of things lately. It amazes me that things like depression, suicide, and agoraphobia are still miss understood. Recently I was dragged from my home, handcuffed (not the good kind of handcuffed) and thrown into a mental facility. All for saying something that I was actually feeling. It seems I am too fucked up to talk to someone professional about what I go through every day.
I spent 48 hours staring at puke brown walls and listening to other people’s problems. Basically I was the therapist and a patient. Considering the staffing and the fear of expressing actual feelings to them overrides the ability to get help. Once you are in everything that you say can and will be used against you to make you stay in a horrid situation longer. All of this from simply seeking help for an overwhelming situation. If my life was not bad enough before this it is horrid now. Everyone I care about now looks at me as if I am crazy which admittedly I am but most of the time I am functionally crazy.
I like things that most people don’t, I mix pleasure and pain readily. I enjoy strange things and have a really hard time controlling basic impulses. I love it all there are very few things that I won’t try. My life was screwed before and all this did was ruin my relationships with my friends and family. I know I am not making sense but remember when I said there are times to call the ambulance and there are times not to. Well calling the police and being taken to a hospital in handcuffs is enough to destroy your life.
I am not sure if everyone is like this or if it is only me but I don’t deal with frustration very well. Allow me to rephrase – I don’t deal with frustration at all, waiting makes me feel as if I am being driven slowly insane by the most diabolical of demons. Most of the tears that I have shed have not been over sadness, joy, or even anger they have been because of frustration.
Like right now my hands twitch with it. It flows through me dancing down my spine and skipping as if it is having fun. It plays with me sending shock waves skipping across my ribs making my heart pound. I have been pacing my cage looking out across the sands watching them build the walls that they think I need. I am aware that my skin doesn’t seem to want to stay on. It slithers and crawls over muscle, bone, and sinew looking for a way to slide off and live on its own.
It pushes aside the darkness which I have become accustom to. Sending it back inside my duplicitous brain. I wonder vaguely if the architects are finished with their twisted spires and rooms that people never come out of. They don’t seem to be building anymore and I wonder if it is safe to go back the the dark pit I call my home. I try the cage door and find it locked. Looking out across the black sand landscape I try to see the one whom I once loved and the one whom I have lost. I wonder if he still lives despite the torture he has endured. There is no way for me to tell.
What I wouldn’t give to have that heart beat against my hand full of life and love. Somehow I think the same slithering things that got me. Parasites that stretch the fabric of reality in their grotesque bodies unnatural for the real world. I wonder vaguely if they will ever break through using my body as a transport device. They skitter along my bones and muscles as if they are restless and waiting to get out. Each day they take more from me and I wonder when they will envelope me causing my personality to die. They have already altered it beyond recognition. I watch the darkness move underneath my skin waiting for me to touch another and infect them so that they can escape the prison I keep them in.
I keep them close to my heart because I have long since started to view them as my darkness but I know they bite, scratch, and claw to infect another. When I touch someone they envelope him corrupting what he feels, who he loves, and any happiness he could bring. It always happens this way, I think this is why I stay away from people. I don’t want to see the my darkness penetrate them like an obscene lover. It fills them up and burrows its way into any cracks so that the person feels the fullness of their presence. Some people cum when they feel it others turn away, still others scream while it pushes too hard against their walls expanding them to the point of a perfect pain. The darkness is good at that. Good at making you feel all those feelings that are considered unnatural, taboo, but oh so good.
My eyes slip closed and my head slips back with a soft thump against the concrete wall. I keep my eyes closed knowing all to well what I will see it is what my body feels right now. I want to open my mouth and say something, anything. I begin to make a sound and his large calloused hand clamps over my mouth sealing it. He leans in close to me, his breath warm against my ear and whisper “Don’t make a sound.” As if I could my mind reels the oxygen deprivation quickly becoming apparent. The bulge against my thigh grows a bit bigger as he rubs it against me. I shiver excitement and fear warring in my brain. I am certain that he can feel my heart pound through the thin t-shirt that I have on. The slowly moves off of my mouth and nose giving me a split second to gasp precious oxygen.
While I am still gasping for breath a forearm is slammed into my throat pinning me to the concrete wall behind me. The rough brick pushes painfully into my back and the forearm is crushing my ability to breath. The pressure of it keeps me pinned on the tips of my toes. If I don’t strain to touch the ground my feet would be off the floor and I would hang there in his grip choking. I feel him fumbling with something between us and realize suddenly that he is unbuckling his belt and trousers. His other hand reaches completely up under my skirt. I gasp as his rough fingers brush my over sensitive lips. He tilts his head up to look at me raising an eyebrow quizzically.
“Expecting someone?” He whispers so close to my ear that it is all I can do to not to lean into him. I shake my head my eyes going wide because I went without panties on a dare from a friend. His hand roams across my bare ass and gently caresses the folds of my lips, teasing me. I arch my back trying to get more contact between me and his had, my fear fading as quickly it began. He cupped his hand and slowly curled one finger against the most sensitive part of me. I turn my head away pushing my cheek against the brick at this violation and that my body is responding to it so enthusiastically. His newly freed cock twitches in excitement as it slides against my bare thigh. The silky and smooth skin makes me shudder in what could only be termed anticipation. I lean my head back pushing my body closer to that silken warmth. My eyes flutter closed as his fingers trace lazy circles around my clit making me want to scream, I barely notice a flash of sliver on the edge of my vision.