There’s a brick laying down beside me. So I picked it up for all of the bullying and lies that I had learned to be a part of my life. Later I was able to pick it up for standards that society put on me. A disappointed family, money problems, school work, and shady friends; even more bricks I piled up. So many bricks holding down my limbs as I plummet beneath the lake’s cool refreshing gravity. Those heavy bricks are not nearly as heavy.
I always thought the song “Free Falling” was crazy, or, at the very least, suicidal.
Why would anyone want to jump without a safety net?
You’re probably not going to die,
But there’s that small chance you are,
And if you’re going to get hurt,
Then why would you ever risk that glorious euphoria of a fall,
That makes you feel alive,
The only time you feel alive.
Why risk… your life…
He peered over the edge. The water was a long way down, and he had no idea how deep it was. The way back up the cliff was concave, with sheer walls that would provide little in the way of handholds. “Suicidal,” he muttered. “Either way, I’m gonna be dead.”
I tend to think about Elliot Smith, not often, just as he pops up in media. Waltz #2 is a beautiful, but wretchedly sad song, and it probably has the most self-loathing chorus I’ve thought about in sometime. And that’s saying something b/c Passion Pits’ lead, Michael Angelakos, has a song where you kind of wonder if he’s going to find a place where he belongs or if he’ll eventually succumb to his bipolar disorder and commit suicide during a really dark depressive phase. It also makes me wonder how many people have listened to their music only to focus on the musicality, that enchanting trance between melody and rhythm, yet breezed through the lyrics as if they were just pretty words strung to songs.
I couldn’t see going on. not without her, without all of them. the sun rose brighter than I remember. Things looked washed out. The details didn’t hold. I could not seem to get a purchase on my thoughts.
This was nothing like the end he had awaited. There were none of the glory promised, none of the ethereal fragments of happiness he had envisioned before the final step.
They believe I’m suicidal… I’ll show them… They think I’m weak, hah! They’ll see. I sharpen my knife as I think of all the victims I will have within my clutches, they don’t know what’s coming.
It never leaves. The darkness permeates my every pore like water filling my lungs slowly, dragging me deeper with every breath I try to take. The pill bottles stare back at me wistfully, as if to say don’t, but the temporary burning will hopefully have some effect, any effect, on the burning that has haunted me for the last sixty years. Since I was a kid, the pill bottles have mesmerized me, and one really should find a way to get what they want in life, that’s what they always say.
I stood peering over the ledge that overlooked the vast, dark canyon. Rocks crumbled from the Earth beneath me and crippled in a downwards spiral until they were nothing but a speck of sound. Below was suicidal — but somehow standing at the ridge, with the stars above, I’d never felt so wildly alive and free.
Today’s hectic life style have rendered our young people to suicidal thoughts and even carrying out the act. This a very sad reality, as our youth try to satisfy their desire for material things that is of little value . We need to convince them now, more than ever, of the vales of righteous living and to accept Jesus Christ into their lives.
the more i think how worlds apart our lives would be,
the more i feel how separated our once tangled bodies were,
the more i prefer death over a life without you.
There were mismatching socks laying at the foot of the bed. It was nothing out of the ordinary for a messy teenager with certain unhygienic tendencies, however it was the hole in the toe of the stripy left foot that caught Sabrina’s eye..
it is a mean thought. But it can be a suicidal day, when you are sooo tired. it can be a suicidal lunch, what my mamma used to make. but overall, i dont like this word.
I keep reminding myself about my schizophren ex classmate…
blood was dripping soundlessly down her arms, her legs. a thousand open wounds. she wanted nothing more than to bleed out, let it all go, leave it all behind. instead she sighed, took up her needle, and stitched herself up for the thousandth time.
I knew the reason I had to go after her. This wasn’t a question of crime, or the law. Just basic human instinct, and basic human justice. She did not deserve to have to take her own life. It was my duty, as a protector of the law (ironically) to protect her, the one who broke it. Simply because she was a human being.
The first time he came across the true essence of the word, was when he smashed a glass with his bare fist. He was frustrated, angry even at God himself. Why did it have to be him?
We have the same melancholy streak running in our blood, he and I. It makes us perform acts that are considered by some to be borderline suicidal: balancing along the edges of cliffs, walking alone in the dead of night through the most dangerous parts of town, and exploring uncharted caves all by ourselves.
these are horrible people living horrible lives
the minds are constructed with the truth as a lie
the world keeps spinning, throwing some of us around
but sometimes i think i’d be better off underground
suicidal sources and conflicted sighs
the bottle keeps sinking as the whiskey dries.
Funny this word popped up. In my life I’ve always thought of suicide as a cowardly way out, and maybe it is. But I think I understand now why some people choose it. Life is just too hard to handle for some people.
Alone. It was the feeling that swept through me as I stood at the edge of the tall building. It was the feeling that was always inside of me. Even if I was surrounded I felt alone. I lingered 1 foot off the edge of the building. So close to death. Maybe then I wouldn’t be alone anymore.
I didn’t know what to do. I stood at the edge of the building. I was motionless. I wasn’t moving forward. I wasn’t moving backwards. I just stood there. The wind blew through my hair. My ears felt cold and were pink and red.
Tripping over a snake that day, I realized that I must have looked pretty suicidal. Then I remembered that earlier that day, I choked a swan. I can’t recall much else, but wait, I am starting to recall the pinecone I sucked on.
I can’t remember exactly how i felt or why I did it but I did. No one seemed to understand how I felt. They never felt the pain. But more importantly, they never felt the relief that I managed to get. I can’t blame anyone for this. It’s all me. Don’t underestimate the power that each person has over their own life. I do what I do, as do you.
We’re all a bit divided on suicidal tendencies, aren’t we? Are you a coward, ready to throw your life away? Or are you brave enough to face what’s ahead? A little of both if you ask me. Is it ever worth it? There’s only one way to know that..
A bottle of cough syrup and depression medication lay on the floor next to him. He was passed out on the floor. She burst through the door, screaming his name. She called for an ambulance and cried, holding him. He was her everything, and she was his. But he hadn’t thought too much about consequences, when everyone was making him think he was nothing. He recovered and she cherished him even more. Life is a privilege not everyone gets.
This was the most suicidal thing he thought he’d done since he became human. Screwdriver in his teeth, he reached across the divide between buildings, trying to reach the rope without looking down at the ground hundreds of feet below. In the past, if he’d fallen, he’d regenerate, but now? Splat, that was it. Kaput.
I’m frightened by this word. I didn’t expect today’s word will be suicidal. A day ago I still wrote ‘death’, I still wrote ‘kill yourself’, even still ‘kill myself’, but never ‘suicidal’.
I’m frightened by my own mind that tells me an accident months ago that happened to me was a suicidal. Was it? A day before that accident, I wrote ‘God, please…’ on twitter. A day later I laid in hospital bed. Was I suicide myself? I forget what happen to me that morning. I forget was I suicide myself or not.
I want to be healthy person. I want to have healthy mind. I should turn this thought into a good food for my mind. Therefore I should think that God made it happened so I can learn that I only live once. “Just live the life, please.”, I tell myself.
Is it selfish
Or is it escape
From a pain that cannot be bared
From life
Or lack of
Suicidal times
Blindly leaving
Giving up time
And space
And relationship
Are we suicidal
It’s been a long day. Another long day of inward silence and internal screams. Nothing can be heard, it is as though the whole world has become muted around me. I tie, loop, un-loop the thick rope in my hands – I stole it from the back of Dad’s tool shed, while he was out front washing the car. He never lets me in there. He yells and rants. He doesn’t care. None of them do.
There’s a brick laying down beside me. So I picked it up for all of the bullying and lies that I had learned to be a part of my life. Later I was able to pick it up for standards that society put on me. A disappointed family, money problems, school work, and shady friends; even more bricks I piled up. So many bricks holding down my limbs as I plummet beneath the lake’s cool refreshing gravity. Those heavy bricks are not nearly as heavy.
before i met you
i wished i was never born
i hate you for that
I always thought the song “Free Falling” was crazy, or, at the very least, suicidal.
Why would anyone want to jump without a safety net?
You’re probably not going to die,
But there’s that small chance you are,
And if you’re going to get hurt,
Then why would you ever risk that glorious euphoria of a fall,
That makes you feel alive,
The only time you feel alive.
Why risk… your life…
“Did he ever seem suicidal?”
She laughed. “I shouldn’t have done that,” she said. “But what you ask isn’t tragic, it’s so far removed from who he is—”
“Was.”
“Is, that it’s ridiculous.”
“But he’s dead.”
“I don’t recall you showing me a body. Unless I see a body, I wouldn’t believe that man is dead. Even then, I’d have my doubts.”
Suicidal? I dont know. i woudnt do that. Im against that. Live. Just live. Life is short. Dont let some bad things make your life bad. Enjoy.
He peered over the edge. The water was a long way down, and he had no idea how deep it was. The way back up the cliff was concave, with sheer walls that would provide little in the way of handholds. “Suicidal,” he muttered. “Either way, I’m gonna be dead.”
You don’t understand. I’m not suicidal. It’s just… how can you keep living if you don’t know there’s a chance that you won’t?
I tend to think about Elliot Smith, not often, just as he pops up in media. Waltz #2 is a beautiful, but wretchedly sad song, and it probably has the most self-loathing chorus I’ve thought about in sometime. And that’s saying something b/c Passion Pits’ lead, Michael Angelakos, has a song where you kind of wonder if he’s going to find a place where he belongs or if he’ll eventually succumb to his bipolar disorder and commit suicide during a really dark depressive phase. It also makes me wonder how many people have listened to their music only to focus on the musicality, that enchanting trance between melody and rhythm, yet breezed through the lyrics as if they were just pretty words strung to songs.
I couldn’t see going on. not without her, without all of them. the sun rose brighter than I remember. Things looked washed out. The details didn’t hold. I could not seem to get a purchase on my thoughts.
This was nothing like the end he had awaited. There were none of the glory promised, none of the ethereal fragments of happiness he had envisioned before the final step.
They believe I’m suicidal… I’ll show them… They think I’m weak, hah! They’ll see. I sharpen my knife as I think of all the victims I will have within my clutches, they don’t know what’s coming.
It never leaves. The darkness permeates my every pore like water filling my lungs slowly, dragging me deeper with every breath I try to take. The pill bottles stare back at me wistfully, as if to say don’t, but the temporary burning will hopefully have some effect, any effect, on the burning that has haunted me for the last sixty years. Since I was a kid, the pill bottles have mesmerized me, and one really should find a way to get what they want in life, that’s what they always say.
Death by Day
Life by Years
Happiness struggles.
so does life,
Only that day,
you chose by death.
Life by Years have been unsastained
Bloodshot eyes and blank a blank stare followed the needle as she deeply considered the outcome.
I stood peering over the ledge that overlooked the vast, dark canyon. Rocks crumbled from the Earth beneath me and crippled in a downwards spiral until they were nothing but a speck of sound. Below was suicidal — but somehow standing at the ridge, with the stars above, I’d never felt so wildly alive and free.
Today’s hectic life style have rendered our young people to suicidal thoughts and even carrying out the act. This a very sad reality, as our youth try to satisfy their desire for material things that is of little value . We need to convince them now, more than ever, of the vales of righteous living and to accept Jesus Christ into their lives.
the more i think how worlds apart our lives would be,
the more i feel how separated our once tangled bodies were,
the more i prefer death over a life without you.
the more i think how worlds apart our lives would be,
the more i feel how separated our once tangled skins were,
the more i would rather just die.
There were mismatching socks laying at the foot of the bed. It was nothing out of the ordinary for a messy teenager with certain unhygienic tendencies, however it was the hole in the toe of the stripy left foot that caught Sabrina’s eye..
it is a mean thought. But it can be a suicidal day, when you are sooo tired. it can be a suicidal lunch, what my mamma used to make. but overall, i dont like this word.
I keep reminding myself about my schizophren ex classmate…
blood was dripping soundlessly down her arms, her legs. a thousand open wounds. she wanted nothing more than to bleed out, let it all go, leave it all behind. instead she sighed, took up her needle, and stitched herself up for the thousandth time.
I knew the reason I had to go after her. This wasn’t a question of crime, or the law. Just basic human instinct, and basic human justice. She did not deserve to have to take her own life. It was my duty, as a protector of the law (ironically) to protect her, the one who broke it. Simply because she was a human being.
The first time he came across the true essence of the word, was when he smashed a glass with his bare fist. He was frustrated, angry even at God himself. Why did it have to be him?
We have the same melancholy streak running in our blood, he and I. It makes us perform acts that are considered by some to be borderline suicidal: balancing along the edges of cliffs, walking alone in the dead of night through the most dangerous parts of town, and exploring uncharted caves all by ourselves.
these are horrible people living horrible lives
the minds are constructed with the truth as a lie
the world keeps spinning, throwing some of us around
but sometimes i think i’d be better off underground
suicidal sources and conflicted sighs
the bottle keeps sinking as the whiskey dries.
Suicidal was her name
she always felt so close to the end.
Funny this word popped up. In my life I’ve always thought of suicide as a cowardly way out, and maybe it is. But I think I understand now why some people choose it. Life is just too hard to handle for some people.
I’ve spent a long time with this word already. I don’t think it needs any more of my attention.
Alone. It was the feeling that swept through me as I stood at the edge of the tall building. It was the feeling that was always inside of me. Even if I was surrounded I felt alone. I lingered 1 foot off the edge of the building. So close to death. Maybe then I wouldn’t be alone anymore.
I didn’t know what to do. I stood at the edge of the building. I was motionless. I wasn’t moving forward. I wasn’t moving backwards. I just stood there. The wind blew through my hair. My ears felt cold and were pink and red.
Tripping over a snake that day, I realized that I must have looked pretty suicidal. Then I remembered that earlier that day, I choked a swan. I can’t recall much else, but wait, I am starting to recall the pinecone I sucked on.
I can’t remember exactly how i felt or why I did it but I did. No one seemed to understand how I felt. They never felt the pain. But more importantly, they never felt the relief that I managed to get. I can’t blame anyone for this. It’s all me. Don’t underestimate the power that each person has over their own life. I do what I do, as do you.
He’s standing two feet in the water with his shoes still on.
“I’m not going to do it,” he says.
She laughs and whispers to the tide, “I know you won’t,” and sinks down under.
We’re all a bit divided on suicidal tendencies, aren’t we? Are you a coward, ready to throw your life away? Or are you brave enough to face what’s ahead? A little of both if you ask me. Is it ever worth it? There’s only one way to know that..
When a person has tried or contemplates thoughts about taking their life.
A bottle of cough syrup and depression medication lay on the floor next to him. He was passed out on the floor. She burst through the door, screaming his name. She called for an ambulance and cried, holding him. He was her everything, and she was his. But he hadn’t thought too much about consequences, when everyone was making him think he was nothing. He recovered and she cherished him even more. Life is a privilege not everyone gets.
This was the most suicidal thing he thought he’d done since he became human. Screwdriver in his teeth, he reached across the divide between buildings, trying to reach the rope without looking down at the ground hundreds of feet below. In the past, if he’d fallen, he’d regenerate, but now? Splat, that was it. Kaput.
I’m frightened by this word. I didn’t expect today’s word will be suicidal. A day ago I still wrote ‘death’, I still wrote ‘kill yourself’, even still ‘kill myself’, but never ‘suicidal’.
I’m frightened by my own mind that tells me an accident months ago that happened to me was a suicidal. Was it? A day before that accident, I wrote ‘God, please…’ on twitter. A day later I laid in hospital bed. Was I suicide myself? I forget what happen to me that morning. I forget was I suicide myself or not.
I want to be healthy person. I want to have healthy mind. I should turn this thought into a good food for my mind. Therefore I should think that God made it happened so I can learn that I only live once. “Just live the life, please.”, I tell myself.
Is it selfish
Or is it escape
From a pain that cannot be bared
From life
Or lack of
Suicidal times
Blindly leaving
Giving up time
And space
And relationship
Are we suicidal
It’s been a long day. Another long day of inward silence and internal screams. Nothing can be heard, it is as though the whole world has become muted around me. I tie, loop, un-loop the thick rope in my hands – I stole it from the back of Dad’s tool shed, while he was out front washing the car. He never lets me in there. He yells and rants. He doesn’t care. None of them do.