so i tried to distract myself. I cleaned the bathroom, but I cried so hard. You don't realize the emotional pain of knowing that you can't even grasp a sponge because of your own physical weakness. Dancing didn't work. At this point I feel numb and I still do as I type this story. A girl from my school that I didn't even know reached out to me and she really opened my eyes. Other people reached out, but there's nothing that can be said to a person who has their mind made up. I NEED to tell Devon, but I'm not ready yet. An old friend of mine doesn't even want me to talk to him, but I'll be damned if i dont talk to Devon first before I do something I want to do. I just decided to sit back and look at who had my back this whole time. I have some new friends that I didn't get to in the story yet that were there for me.
i decided to not do anything. I'll keep to myself and I will get through this. It's just a phase. I've had these before but this one really hit me. so here goes the story i just read::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Consider this one carefully.
There's a Catch-22 here, in that the methods that leave you unconscious (taking pills or sucking car exhaust) also leaves the possibility that someone will find you and rush you to the hospital.
But the methods that leave you wide awake also leave you to experience the last few seconds of absolute bodily terror that comes with the realization that the thing you feared your whole life - death - is upon you, real and ugly and big as balls. Did you see that movie The Ring? Why were you scared of that little girl? What's the worst thing she could do?
Kill you, that's what. This thing, death, this is what had you jumping in your seat at sudden noises in the dark. Fear that something would lunge out and take your life.
I turned on the TV just now, flipped around. Three cop shows, heroes catching murderers so they can't kill again. Jaws playing on TNT. What are those characters desperately running and swimming away from? Death, by shark.
It's embedded in your psyche. So at that final, suicidal moment your body will realize via the full force of all of its adrenaline and nerve impulses that now every fear has suddenly come true right in front of your eyes. The rotted little girl from the well, the guy in the hockey mask with a chainsaw, the childhood shadowy monster from under the bed, all of them are now silly caricatures compared to the actual, real, black thing facing you at the moment you pull the razor. Endless, faceless death.
It's no surprise that roof-jumpers change their minds half way down (and that people avoid jumping as a method for that reason). That is, unless you enjoy mind-blowing terror and the feeling of shitting in your pants in midair like that pooping bungee jumper guy. (I AM NOT GOING TO SHOW THE PICTURE JUST KNOW THAT YOU CAN GOOGLE IT FOR YOURSELF)
So here's some other common suicide methods, with the drawbacks of each:
A. Slitting your wrists
This one simply doesn't work. I've never, ever heard of a person successfully killing himself this way. It's extremely painful and by the time you get to doing the second cut the sight of your own blood spurting everywhere sends up such alarm bells that you find yourself desperately dailing 911 while splattering plasma all over the phone. It's the ultimate in self-aware suicide in that not only can you see yourself dying in vivid splashes of red, but you can feel it. Not recommended.
B. Shooting yourself
Contrary to popular belief, shooting yourself - even with a shotgun - is not a surefire way to die. More than half of the attempted gun suicides wake up in the hospital, missing a chunk of their brain and usually mute and wheelchair-bound for the rest of their lives. Kurt Cobain could just as easily have wound up blowing off the lower half of his face, laying there on the floor sputtering for thirty hours before the mailman came by and called the cops, Kurt living on as a deformed and inarticulate mask of horror for the rest of his days. I wouldn't go this route.
C. Overdose
People think one is the most painless, taking dozens of pain pills or whatever, but your body tends to wait until you're unconscious and then vomits them back up. This leaves you alive, sleeping in a puddle of puke, next to your suicide note which, absent a corresponding suicide, will just sound gay. Obviously not the direction you wanted to go.
D. Hanging
When the Old West used hanging as a method of capital punishment, they had actual experts to do the rig. It's not easy to hang a person quickly and painlessly. What often happens is the neck is broken and you're left to dangle for 30 minutes, twitching and clawing at the rope. Or, the noose breaks and you plunge to the floor, often with a severed upper spinal cord that leaves you a Christopher Reeve paraplegic. This is the last way I would ever try to do it.
E. Throwing yourself in front of a speeding train or car
Obviously this is the worst possible method, as it forces someone else to commit murder against their will. You know that horror movie Saw? That's what the bad guy in that movie did, forced other people to commit murder. So they actually make horror movies about what you'd be doing here, forcing someone else to live with that horrific memory. No, this one doesn't even deserve discussion.
3. Is the timing right?
This is the final question you have to ask yourself. You might feel like a fool if you commited suicide only to find out you had the winning lottery ticket in your pocket (or rather, never find out).
He gets door after door slammed in his face, until, desperate for money, he takes what I consider to be the worst possible job on Earth. He wore a chicken costume to stand on the sidewalk and advertise for a restaurant called El Pollo Loco. Picture it. You had these dreams in your head of hitting it big and being on movie sets and making out with starlets, and there you are, baking in the California sun in this stifling costume that smells like sweat and farts. Eight hours a day. People making snide comments as they pass. Feeling sorry for you. The humiliation must have burned like snake venom.
Sure, he found some success later. But you have to ask yourself, would any success make up for that? Or for what you're going through now? I know Brad asked himself .
Now obviously there are things you just can't overcome; some of what you hate will be with you forever. I knew a guy who was the shortest kid in his school - just five feet, two inches tall - and he never got taller. He was a black kid in a white town. And to top it all off, he had this very high, womanly voice and these effeminate gestures that just screamed "gay" every time he walked into a room, blared it like an air raid siren. And he wasn't even gay.
When I point out that he lived in the frozen wasteland of rural Minnesota, you can picture how often this guy got the crap kicked out of him by the racists and the homophobes and pretty much everybody else.
Should he have considered suicide? After all, he was already at an age when he knew he wasn't going to get any taller or whiter and his voice wasn't going to get any manlier. The kid wound up buying a guitar and, after some practice, recorded an album called Ode To My Pecker, which the record company insisted be changed to...
...Purple Rain.
Life is a tricky thing to predict, that's the problem. Even if you don't have any kind of special talent, you don't know where the ride will to take you. I had an uncle named Jeff, who lived up in the mountains in the Northwest. He was so poor he could barely feed his family. But one day he was out hunting for some food and when he fired his rifle... something black bubbled up from the ground.
It was oil. Black gold. Texas tea. Well, the next thing you know, old Jeff's a millionaire. He moved away so I don't know what came of him after that, but you get the idea.
Not to say that promises of financial riches are the only thing to keep a man going. A wealthy man once came up to me and offered me $100 million dollars, and said all I had to do was let him chop off my legs and, once a day, ram a lit blowtorch up my ass.
I said no, realizing for the first time that, while I didn't have $100 million, I did have something worth more than $100 million to me. Specifically, my legs and an unburnt anus. So if I already own something worth more than $100 million it's silly to worry about the bill collector at the door demanding his few thousand. That's a true story, by the way.
The 50% Rule
This is a good standard to follow. The average person lives to be about 75 years old. So if you're less than 38 and have more than half of your life left, the odds are that, for instance, the funniest joke you'll ever hear in your life is one you haven't heard yet. It's just statistics. Odds are you also haven't yet...
...met the girl you'll love the most;
...met your best friend;
...heard your favorite album;
...started the best job you'll ever have;
...read the best book;
...seen the best movie or played the coolest video game;
...found the hobby you're most interested in;
...had the best sex;
...had the most original, mind-blowing idea;
...met the dumbest person you'll ever meet;
...or seen the stupidest haircut.
You can make your own list. Look around your room, look around your life. If you're less than 38, the sheer odds are that the future holds a more awesome version of everything you see. You've got to weigh all of that shit. You're not really even conscious of your life until age 7 or 8, so to decide it's all bullshit after just ten or fifteen more years is like judging a movie by its poster.
Especially if you haven't had sex yet. I want to make a special point of that one. If you're at an age that you haven't had the sex, you definitely want to put off the suicide thing at least until after that. And if you're some kid with bad skin and are scoffing at me, thinking that the pretty girls don't even look at you, I'm going to let you in on one of society's biggest secrets:
Girls who look like models are never very good in bed. Don't take my word for it. Ask around.
Or, maybe you'll find out for yourself.
REVISE YOUR SUICIDE NOTE FIRST.
Remember Skyler (or "Scatler" as people came to know her afterwards). Don't do this without a note, one that's clear as to exactly who wronged you and why you felt suicide was the only choice and why your loved ones shouldn't feel guilty for it.
Now, obviously you can't judge what you've scrawled while still in a state of suicidal depression. What seems witty and biting will come off bitchy and trite. What seems deep and darkly eloquent will come of as merely goth.
Run your note by a friend first. Read it to them over the phone, get feedback. Give them a chance to suggest revisions. The best suicide notes I've read were created by inviting all of the friends over and reading it to them as a group.
If you don't have friends or at least any with writing talent, you can call a Suicide Hotline at 1-800-784-2433 and read it to them. They deal with dozens of suicides every day and they know a good note when they hear one. They'll shoot you straight.
Take the extra step, it's worth it. You know what you risk otherwise..