suicidal-thoughts

I__e given up already in life but something or someone keep pushing me to keep going.

Maybe I should drown myself before I freeze to death?

A broken shoelace can strangle me.

Suddenly, I viddied what I had to do, and that was to do myself in; to snuff it, to blast off forever out of this wicked, cruel world. One moment of pain perhaps and, then, sleep forever, and ever and ever.

But first you have to fight, to try other ways. If your life displeases you, my lad, try to change it. Don't give in to defeat so easily. Death is the only sure defeat. It is the end of everything.

The source for any mental trauma is never the other person, but its your own MIND psyching YOU into believing that you're vulnerable at first, thereby gradually increasing the intensity of suffering as it justifies through illusionary reasons as falsity forms its very foundation with fabrication as prime element - all thanks to the unconscious recess, thus driving one into a life-negative state with violent mood swings followed by depression and onset of suicidal tendencies! Beware of your MIND, for it's not YOU!

The source for any mental trauma is never other person, but its your own MIND psyching YOU into believing that you're vulnerable at first, thereby gradually increasing the intensity of suffering as it justifies through illusionary reasons - all thanks to the unconscious recess, as falsity forms is very foundation with fabrication as prime drivers, thus pushing one into a life-negative state with violent mood swings followed by depression and suicidal tendencies! Beware of your MIND, for it's not YOU!

Sons of suicides seldom do well. Characteristically, they find life lacking a certain zing. They tend to feel more rootless than most, even in a notoriously rootless nation. They are squeamishly incurious about the past and numbly certain about the future to this grisly extent: they suspect that they, too, will kill themselves.

I don't know and I don't care anymore. I was supposed to have my way for once, just once in my life. I did everything right and I got nothing for it.I want to kill them all. no, better yet, I want to die. No, even bettter than that: I want to kill them all then die.

Even the people who once fought for others tend to get weak and eventually "give up" and lose interest in the worth of fighting any longer.

The fear of not living is a deep, abiding dread of watching your own potential decompose into irredeemable disappointment when 'should be' gets crushed by what is. Sometimes I think it would be easier to die than to face that, because 'what could have been' is much more highly regarded than 'what should have been.' Dead kids are put on pedestals, but mentally ill kids get hidden under the rug.

Killing yourself slowly is still killing yourself. Wanting to die is not the same as wanting to come home. Recovery is hard work. Not wanting to die is hard work.

After each dream, Frankie woke with a start, soaked in tears. But she found no relief in the peaceful silence of her room, because there everything was real. And the guilt was too immense to bear. Each time she opened her eyes, she'd quickly shut them. And wish that she had woken up for the very last time.

For as long I can remember I have wanted to die. So that started around age 6. I think. My earliest clear memories start at age 140.

Throughout the years I learned the good times must come to an end, all the bad times will get worse, and most recently I learned I have PTSD. Ileft a part of myself in that river, in that battlefield, in every tragedy. A couple thousand years of this and there is not much left. I never escaped that river. I am drowning in a sea of tragedy.A woman was standing in front of me. She smiled. __he psychiatrist is ready to see you.

Most of the time, I do not want to die. But I would like to have the means of death within my grasp. I want to feel the luxury of choice, to know the answer to __ow do I bear this?_ need not always be __ndure.