Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.
Once I tried to kill myself with a bungee cord. I kept almost dying.
To die, to sleep --To sleep, perchance to dream, ay there's the rub,For in that sleep of death what dreams may comeWhen we have shuffled off this mortal coil,Must give us pause; there's the respectThat makes calamity of so long life.
They tell us that suicide is the greatest piece of cowardice; . . . that suicide is wrong; when it is quite obvious that there is nothing in the world to which every man has a more unassailable title than to his own life and person.
Here take back the stuff that I am, nature, knead it back into the dough of being, make of me a bush, a cloud, whatever you will, even a man, only no longer make me.
Sometimes you just gotta hope for the hope of having hope some day.
You might be looking for reasons but there are no reasons.
Nothing else matters now that you love me.' - suicide note
No man ever threw away life while it was worth keeping.
a young man was hung by a rope made of Stalingrad snow
Women are constantly trying to commit suicide for love, but generally they take care not to succeed.
Live or die, But don't poison everything.
I don't want to hurt you or anybody so please forget about me. Just try. Find yourself a better friend.
The difference between a non-suicide and an ex-suicide leaving the house for work, at eight o'clock on an ordinary morning:The non-suicide is a little traveling suck of care, sucking care with him from the past and being sucked toward care in the future. His breath is high in his chest.The ex-suicide opens his front door, sits down on the steps, and laughs. Since he has the option of being dead, he has nothing to lose by being alive. It is good to be alive. He goes to work because he doesn't have to.
I don't mind pointing out some of the failings of old age, because we are all headed in that direction, unless of course we take our own lives before we become a burden. I'm not advocating suicide, oh wait, I guess I am.
He would say, 'How funny it will all seem, all you've gone through, when I'm not here anymore, when you no longer feel my arms around your shoulders, nor my heart beneath you, nor this mouth on your eyes, because I will have to go away someday, far away...' And in that instant I could feel myself with him gone, dizzy with fear, sinking down into the most horrible blackness: into death.
Crap.It's all crap.Living is crap.Life has no meaning.None. Nowhere to be found.Crap.Why doesn't anybody realize this?
I'd spend about an hour, my room darkening around me, wondering what the hell happened to make me so unsure of who I even was. Because who you are is supposed to be the easiest question in the world to answer, right? Only for me it hadn't been easy for a very long time.
Even our parents seemed agree more and more with the television version of things, listening to the reporters' inanities as though they could tell us the truth about our own lives
For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
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