Suicide Notes

>Please don't actually kill yourselves.
Well that was unexpected.

He has to say that. Online incitement to suicide is a crime in many jurisdictions.

I've no reason to live. I was a living-dead since I was 15. Now I've degraded into an inexorable piece of shit. Please, understand me, I didn't want to do this. You put me in a worthless school, sorrounded by idiots. I could shoot'em all, I could go to my old school and do a shooting, die with the feeling of freedom... No, sorry for all. Goodbye!

Don't worry, I'll be back in a minute

I haven't killed myself yet because I can't get the suicide note right.

"Until yesterday I have had no definite intention of killing myself. But more than a few must have noticed I have been tired both physically and mentally. As to the cause of my suicide, I don't quite understand it myself, but it is not the result of a particular incident, nor of a specific matter. Merely may I say, I am in the frame of mind that I lost confidence in my future. There may be some to whom my suicide will be troubling or a blow to a certain degree. I sincerely hope that this incident will cast no dark shadow over the future of that person. At any rate I cannot deny that this is a kind of betrayal, but please excuse it as my last act in my own way, as I have been doing all my life."

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>Please don't actually kill yourselves.
>>/reddit/

Everything I've done in the last 10 years has been a suicide note so I don't even know where to begin.

funeral song:

youtube.com/watch?v=AYSbztCCTlA

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i'll kill myself as i please, moralfag. fear of death is a spook

any poems?

any parties?

at some point in your 30s, you are reborn as a completely different person with a different life

an infinity of death awaits you regardless. it's foolish to jump the gun here

wait until you are around 40 to consider killing yourself

I was dead long before I put this bullet in my head,

What a long strange trip it`s been

youtube.com/watch?v=JT8zLTaKxeE

Don't know if it's beautiful, but I've got a draft that I keep kicking around in my head.
~~~

>To my mother
Take the money that you were saving to give me when you died and use it to cremate me. So there can be no misunderstanding there I want you to physically withdraw all the money from the bank and use the federal bank notes to incinerate my corpse on an open fire fueled by the money that would have helped me in my life when I asked for it years ago.

No funeral.

Don't celebrate my birthday anymore.

>To my father
I leave you all my worldly possessions.

The password to my computer account is [Blank] please look in the documents folder and upload all files with "Current WIP" in the file name to the appropriate sites, they all will say which ones in the first line and there's a list of all the relevant accounts and passwords in another folder in documents. You can look at whatever you like, but be warned that my work was never particularly inspired and that there is also a lot of porn.

Forgive me. It's not your fault.

>To my friends
I watched you suffer a dull aching pain
Now you decided to show me the same
No sweeping exits or offstage lines
Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind

Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses, couldn't drag me away

I know I dreamed you a sin and a lie
I have my freedom but I don't have much time
Faith has been broken, tears must be cried
Lets do some living after we die

She's waiting for me

>To my employer
I called OSHA and gave them a detailed and succinct list of all of the safety violations that I have reported to you in the past years that you have ignored when I reported them.

I quit.

>To my account manager
Donate all the funds in all of my accounts to NASA. If they ask why, then tell them I wanted a toilet named after me.

~~~
It'd probably be something like that.

>a toilet
They'll name a turd after you at best.

Depends on how much money I have in my accounts at the time.

That has never stopped this place before and ok only asked for notes, did not even mention the act itself. Just surprises me when a bit of humanity pops up in this place.

ice yourselves, my good men

>starting your suicide note off with gentleman

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spoken like a true coward

That’s there for a reason user

>unholy trips
yes, master. of course

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unlike you

youtube.com/watch?v=OVlJCE2q4VU

When I was in high-school, we had to write a suicide note in English (I'm French).
I gave back a suicide note based upon the lyrics of Still Alive from Portal. Shit was terrible, but it ended up being published in our school book this year.
Couldn't buy it, only a few where available for sale, but I wish I had kept a proof of this.

A few excerpts from my suicide draft, written at age 18.
>I am a man born mourning. Less a man, but a boy, for in these short 18 years - but how long have they felt - I have lived a mere fraction the experiences that might make a man. I mourn for these experiences: those lived and met with pain, and those unlived and wondered with a foregone hope.
>I have felt for all of my life a profound emptiness, so much so that this emptiness has become a stifling presence within and without. I feel as a man locked in a room for too long. The air has long grown stagnant and wet, it clings to my skin and crawls sluggishly through me; in and out it travels by my breath, by which it is itself become. Can you imagine it? I live and breathe in my own rank odor, with no novel draft or fair breeze to reconstitute my environment. I've not even the air for company, for so long it's been acquainted with me that it's been by now subsumed within and without.
>I live in fear of the future. I live in regret over the past. I want nothing more to stop living in the present.
>I know that I will not be remembered. Live or die, this will be my final fate: forgotten, unmourned, as though I were never here. If this is the way of it, I would save myself the dreaded years of this feeling, this unfeeling. Let this be my first and last act of rebellion against the future which I wrote.
>I am a low and ugly creature, unable even to repay the smallest kindness offered. I hate those who are kind to me. I scorn those who abuse me. I spit and howl for those who pay me no mind. I was never meant to have come into this world, nor to live as others do.
>To everyone: goodbye. Thank you for all your time, I'll trouble you no more. To the first to find my body: I apologize once more. I hope the blood won't be too hard to clean up. If my body has decomposed to an unsightly point, I apologize all the more for the added trouble.
I haven't changed at all.

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See you on the other side...

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Nobody's fault, just better this way.

If that isnt a cry for help.

;_; it’s time man. It’s time for a better tomorrow. You can already see things changing. Hope 3333

This was water.

>I think so lowly of myself that I am going to commit suicide
>But not before I try to act really deep and insightful about it for no reason

I don't get it. I don't think you are or were suicidal, I just think years of wallowing in lazy mediocrity has lead you to fetishize self-loathing. If you just write yourself off as a piece of shit, then you don't have to deal with the potentially greater pain of accepting responsibility for your situation. Just by two cents, tho.

This one is so pathetic I want to euthanize you.

>I believe we do not stay dead long. Find me beneath the Corsican stars where we first kissed.

>I believe there is another world, a better world, and I'll be waiting for you there.

>When I was in high-school, we had to write a suicide note in English (I'm French).
Your teacher was an absolute fucking madman.
Where was that?

Mother, father, disowned and departed, respectively, please hear the cry of your only son; for once and for all, in one final, echoing call into the immensely darkened night, I confess the ills and pursuits of my heavy soul: my only wish is to die.

I renounce the God and idols of your own making and of your ancestral creation; your mother's and father's, and their mother's and father's, all the way down to the immaculate conception of man himself; to Adam and to Eve and to the incipient demon of original sin, slithering in serpent form.

I resent the metaphysical in favor of the burning, pulsing material radiance of my very own flesh and blood. There is no language anymore with the death and glorious rebirth of my carnalistic godhead - yet I crave the final act in ritualistic reverence to this final omen.

My only hope and salvation is in death. There is no reality other than the rampant possibilities endowed within my flesh; in this world, what you and our founding fathers call reality, they can only remain just so. This life, this body, is fated the cruel destiny of living within the shackles of the mind, forever in rebellion, asserting its Truth and eternally distorting the illusory world bequeathed by your ignorance and intolerance.

We are told to dream, yet my only dream and faith does not lie within the fabric of worldly pursuits - your constant wish and demand at my expense. Rather, limited to merely a rich and abundant, yet tragically fruitless, life of the mind, and so born in these miserable circumstances, the soul grows to unnatural proportions and outgrows and outlives its shell of decaying flesh. It demands release from its mortal prison and calls its own hand down in fury upon its pulsing, essential organ so that it may burst up like the rising sun and fall again down to the land of man, awakening within the dreamlike, nourishing aroma of night where it might find the material circumstances to live out, once and for all, its burning destiny and die in final contented repose with its fleshy form as one, as whole and complete, returning back to the universal substance from which it was spawned.

(1/2)
Hi, its funny how this is totally unexpected but expected. I've had terrible issues sleeping,dealing with demons, and mimicking a mental illness that I think in actuality my thirst for attention and a subliminal level has caught up with me and I simply could not take it anymore. My legs are all scared up if you'd take a look, I was very very alone and tired of everything I took too much sincerely and it affected me. The way I had to live covering up all emotional baggage and carrying mounds of something that was up to my throat, I had to feel something I had to find a way to strain the rag so I picked up the razors in the kitchen wardrobe and tested my self, I assume someone tempted with suicide has to drown out the pain some how and I've had too much debating on whether or not im fake depressed, im faking my insomnia, im faking my night terrors and I don't believe I deserve an ounce of pity for being a terrible person. I'm still unsure whether or not im who I really say I am, anyways it was inevitable. Sometimes strolling down the streets as you walk by among society you can take in certain young faces,my peers, and see their ambitions, insecurities but most of all their future how would they look 10yr,20yr on their death bed, but form me I could not see my self in such a case I could not look ahead it just seemed to be, not there. And although I had a stonecold personality and was a terrible person; I could still recognize the beauty of every which person and the organic fragile serenity of life, everyone of you is beautiful and out of the small group of things I'm proud of, its noticing that that really makes me smile. I felt totally isolated as if every conversation I had was disconnected, disfigured, I'm a great listener so I guess thats how I made it around: a sin and a blessing I can stare into someone's eyes reach deep into their motives,personality, and draped up soul and truly communicate without words, many took notice of this and just

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(2/2)
rambled to me their issues rambled, rambled, rambled, but when I eased them and they dropped all their baggage off at a point they were content and refused to listen to me,me,me,me,me,me,me,me,me,me,me, what about my baggage what about the things I have to tell you that im dealing with what about the night terrors that keep me awake, what about my sins of the past that haunt me today, what about the stuff someone told me today that effected me, why would none of you listen to me. I pushed all of you out and cried in silence, no I rarely cried rather the emotional rattle drove its way up from my stomach all the way to my throat, pushing my eyes out tears on the verge. Yea everyone used me, and thats not to undermine the people that truly cared about me, thats just how I see it, need someone to talk to? Im here, need someone to pick up some lunch with? Im here bud, Need someone to flame out your anger and throw shit out because it dident matter to me and I remained unaffected and maybe other people wouldnt take your shit? Dont worry Im here just lay it on me ill smile and nod away, I was just glad to talk to you.

As for anything I've wrote feel free to burn it to rubble or swim out mid-ocean and let it sink rock bottom. The alternative is to publish it but of course after you tell them the sob story other wise it wont get published, it was terrible. I have more notes, entries, and things ive written on my phone the password is 464475 make sure you look around only for the notes in the note app, if you start snooping around you'll find horrendous things on that device, things im not proud of that are nothing but disgusting disturbed emotions all over; that you can drop in the sea after you've written out all the things i've had on my note pad. Anyways, attempt to publish the things i've written regardless of what I said previously I just wanted to let people know I had some sort of heart regardless of how ugly it was. I love you all your all beautiful people.

*ahem*

In the rash lustihead of my young powers,
I shook the pillaring hours
And pulled my life upon me; grimed with smears,
I stand amidst the dust o' the mounded years—
My mangled youth lies dead beneath the heap.
My days have crackled and gone up in smoke,
Have puffed and burst as sun-starts on a stream.
Yea, faileth now even dream
The dreamer, and the lute the lutanist;
Even the linked fantasies, in whose blossomy twist
I swung the earth a trinket at my wrist,
Are yielding; cords of all too weak account
For earth with heavy griefs so overplussed.
My freshness spent its wavering shower i' the dust;
And now my heart is as a broken fount,
Wherein tear-drippings stagnate, spilt down ever
From the dank thoughts that shiver
Upon the sighful branches of my mind.
Such is; what is to be?
The pulp so bitter, how shall taste the rind?

I submitted
>Goodbye, mother, father. I'm so ashamed.
to a 6-word story competition in high school and no-one picked up on my cry for help. Thinking back, it was very cringe.

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fuck you guys are making me depressed

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Hi, dad, mom, brother... I'm probably dead. It doesn't matter anymore. My life is trash, I was always picked up by everybody, and nobody wanted to do something. I'm 16 years old, and my life isn't nothing but a state of psychological rage, rage against teachers, rage against school, rage against work, rage against circumstances that put me in this current situation. I hope I can explain everything, because this boy of 16 was/is full fo hate.
Since I was in elementary school, I was always alone, alone in a sorrounding school, every time I tried to get friends, I failed, and that's why people bullied me. Now that I'm in high school, I've on my mind memories of isolation and bullying, with the incessant feeling of rage cumulated.
I hate society and everything in the world. It's so fucked up with all shit societies who degenerate slowly this world. World is a nice place, I know, but it's fucked up... Now I want to fucked them for hate itself. Yes, I'm talking about a school shooting. After I die, I want the conversation to be about isolation and harassment. You know, words hurts, they can mold a sociopath like me. I'm gone. Goodbye. I left a manifesto, read it.

need to be atleast 18 to be on here kiddo

your not depressed stop larping ur only in HS lol

did you win ? thats pretty good.

It's fictional faggot. I'm 18.

I always thought this one would be good
>"Sorry about the mess!"

I think if I ever killed myself I would fast for a couple of days and then take some diuretics and laxatives beforehand so that I wouldn't piss or shit myself after death.

This one is great. It's been done before and I think it should be every suicide note.

It was part of qualifying for a "gifted and talented" group and I did get in, but no one ever commented on my story and none of the stories were made public. "Competition" wasn't very accurate.

I had nothing to give, and no one to blame.

JUST

>Suicide notes
About time there was a Transgender literature thread.

No matter how you look at it, one of the most intrinsic forces in the human condition is desire/will. When desires are met, new ones are quickly formed. While some sort of baseline greatly benefits virtually anyone, absurdly ridiculous amounts of wealth and fame in itself isn’t enough to block the abyssal gaze of desire not being met.

Suffering is friction. Cognitive dissonance is a well understood concept, when within what we call the mind we hold two opposing ideas, to be at war with yourself. But this is just one form. Another is the aforementioned friction between expectation and actual achievement. Usually the least grating is friction between idea and reality, because we are all too good at rationalizing around those bumps. Perhaps we owe our big brains for the evolutionary need for our superego to reconcile with the id.

What is cruel is not that we suffer, but that we are slaves to determinism. Abject poverty, sexual attention, recognition, relationships, just few of the things that proliferation or lack of can either cause or end suffering. The control that we exercise over these things are usually minimal and decided for us. They are circumstance To grab the bull by the horn so to speak and take full responsibility for these things is just opening an either wider portal for suffering when you inevitably come short, as then you lack even the excuse of circumstance, you are your own fault. This is not to say trying is useless, but to highlight the extreme inextricable inequality of our destinies. And even our capacity to try and put forth effort, not even succeeding, is also a product of our circumstance. At the mercy of neurotransmitters

The Stoa sentiment that we can exercise total control over our internal world is laughable, the dual and arbitrary separation of the inner and outer world is beyond laughable. Is it admirable to such a holy fool that you are functionally retarded? To hyper-focus on one portion of consciousness, as to dull yourself enough, is no different than dampening yourself by taking SSRIs. To live fully, to throw oneself in pursuit of goal, the accepted path commonly espoused, is bullshit. It is a flickering oasis that keeps reforming, just out of reach, farther and farther

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I'm unironically kys mom

pretty based. one last middle finger as you exit the stage

You was in the club (in the club) bottoms up when I first met you

all this seeding and feeding

*buttoning and unbuttoning

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@12774930
>

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just throw me in the trash

Excuse me, but I must be going.

Clean up on aisle 3

Me too bro

i've got a good friend i could imagine writing notes just like these
the prospect of him killing himself really tears me up inside

Yea, it sucks, I've had friends kill themselves. No fun at all.

life is not serious.

don't forget to feed the cat.

sneed

Goodbye cruel world, this is all suptv's fault... especially that cunt tickles

Use my suptv points to request Harry Potter. Thanks for the laughs.

I exterminate my life by my own will and liking, so as not to blame anybody.

Did Wallace ever leave a note?

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i imagine some posh brittish upperclass dude who looks like the monopoly guy hanging from the ceiling and his group of equally posh british upper class friends finding him in his study and reading that exact note as the opening to a wes anderson movie

brushed my teeth and went to bed,
blew my head and bled to death

FUCK THIS GAY EARTH

We are slaves to nothing but that which we submit ourselves to.

The only person I ever hated was the guy who never returned my pen in school. You other people were slightly more bearable

>grom kek