Reading these suicide pages you will find people seeking help and people offering their help. Some witness about suicide from real life experience, others who play along with me would pretend it's a children's game. Some make sick and cruel jokes about it, and angry people blame me for even mentioning the subject. You might also want to read my favourite answers. If you want your answer to be included here, fill in the form.

Date Name/email

What is the best way to kill yourself when you're under 13?

Quelle est la meilleure forme de suicide pour les moins de 13 ans?
14 Jan 2003 Lucius Mackellar Reve Eveille Dirige... Daylight licked me into shape/ i must have been asleep for years/ and moving lips to breathe Her name/ i opened up my eyes/ to find myself alone, alone/ Alone above a raging sea/ that stole the only girl i Loved/ and drowned Her deep inside of me... ~Bob Smithers
10 Jan 2003 Michael Mackellar Devenir.
As long as mere enumeration is the only factoring necessary for fully comprehending the purity of the lifeforce being driven by the inclination, suicide can be a waltz through the park at any age. The most... conventional method for invoking such a mockery of self-fulfillment, is to willfully cave in to the thoughtlessness of modern social-engineering. Yes, just kill all your time by seeking one desensitizing distraction after another. Forget about all the Ageless souls who dare not fathom the depths of such resplendent shallowness. Forget Them... and focus upon becoming what you are Not. Cast aside the silly idea that the meaning of Life may be to Live for others. Laugh in the face of Reason, and feel free to rip its tongue out should the sounds begin to form, explaining that Depression is growth... of Virtue. Ever so soon, the music shall recede away, and the Waltz of Mind will rush through decay. Here... you will look back and understand that suicide actually proved to be rather fruitful. For you, who now lies silenced among the shattered masses, never really had a Life of your own to take... yet somehow, you managed to take it splendidly.
Suicide cannot be the answer at any age where enumeration fails to yield an encompassing definition. Consider the idea involving Death and Suicide as being two different things... Differing, perhaps, as perfectly as Love and Hate. If you feel as though you have absolutely no choice but to commit, at least take the time to place it in the appropriate perspective beforehand... And that involves the realisation that it is not Yourself who is doing the killing. ~i feel that it is a good idea to Listen to the music of "Belle+Sebastian", at least enough to memorize the lyrics to all their songs. And if you have yet to listen through the soundtrack to "Requiem For A Dream", at least a hundred times, please do so. i suppose if you haven't heard the latest album by "Information Society"-called "Don't Be Afraid", you've really got no business leaving so soon.
There, with all the passion you have found within and without to summon... See how Beautiful our world was meant to be... And share the Truth you feel... with Everyone.
08 Jan 2003 Michael Mackellar SYMPARANECROMENIAN FAVOURITES. VOL.1 Virgilius the sorcerer had himself hacked to bits and dumped in a caldron to be cooked for 8 days in order by this process to be rejuvenated. He arranged for someone to watch so that no interloper would peer into the caldron. But the watchman could not resist the temptation; it was too soon, and Virgilius, as an infant, disappeared with a scream. i dare say that i also peered too soon into the caldron, into the caldron of life and the historical process, and most likely will never become more than a child... ~Soren~
08 Jan 2003 Michael Mackellar Se Jeter~ i just discovered an unutterably remarkable book; one which may be of some assistance should you find yourself feeling... sinister. `Blank Slate`, by Steven Pinker. This heart-rendered work deals with human nature, from the angle of introducing considerations for conflict resolution and peacemaking that go way deeper than conventional analyses. Also, i should add, the book is rather large... so it may take a touch more effort to grasp. I'm currently sitting in my local hometown library, and 'Blank Slate' is resting safely in its secret cubbyhole. It is necessary for me to hide it away each day because my library card has been suspended, due to enormous late fees, and as a result i find myself effectively restricted from checking anything out. As long as 'Blank Slate' remains tucked away when i am elsewhere, i won't have to lose sleep over worring about some Willy Wanker-Sociology Major getting hold of it, and making me wait entirely too focking long for the return. I suspect this may, perhaps certainly, almost appear to seem a bit selfish... Yet i figure i have more than made up for it with my new years resolution. Yes, you guessed it, my wanking days drew to a close with the new year! You can't get much more selfless than that. Honestly though, i had the same thing planned last year... but the most ridiculously dream-like woman to ever step foot into a surrealist club happened to catch my interest right on new year's eve. We even spoke for a while, and i learned that she was aspiring to become a successful mesmerist. She proved the truth in her aspiration by singing the most beautiful song from 'Les Miserables', in my opinion. On My Own. Even still, it did not take me long to close up... And i soon convinced her that all we had to share, was distance. We returned, arms outstretched, to our separate ways. The club eventually closed, and i sped home in my wagon, cursing myself the whole live-long way for being so possessed by a shyness that is criminally vulgar. As a matter of course, i became frightfully distressed... so, when i arrived home and had crashed into bed, i proceeded to beat the hell out of myself... something like 8 or 9 times over. She was too beautiful. And i became so inhuman. Well, as one can well imagine, my set of unsuspecting sheets was in ruins. My selfless resolution was blown to bits not even 8 hours into the new year. This time around i am ready... i'm not caving in for anything!
Since lately i seem to have a remarkably enlarged amount of time on my hands for some reason that appears unfathomable, i've decided to copy the sleeve notes from 'Blank Slate', so in effect, you may be more readily able to decide whether or not such a book would interest you. I should add that 'A Beautiful Mind', 'I Stand Alone', and 'Shine' are 3 films worth renting. If you have yet to see them, please do so. ...The reason i've decided to include the notes from 'Blank Slate' is not entirely due to the mysteriously enlarged amount of time, i've also become quite happy since 'Common People' came on the radio a little while ago, and it happens to be one of my favorite songs.
I imagine Lucy Cortina as being quite fond of PULP, and i find myself wondering what other music exists as dearly to her... as dearly as she claims to have become to Herself. She claimed to feel so amazingly content... inside. LEGENDARY PINK DOTS, no question. ~the limits of my language define the limits of my world~ Ludwig Wittgenstein ~ ...but surpassing all stupendous inventions, what sublimity of mind was hers who dreamed of finding means to communicate her deepest thoughts to any other person, though distant by mighty intervals of space and time! of talking with those who are in Heaven; of speaking to those who are not yet born- and shall not be born for a thousand or a hundred thousand years. and with what felicity by the varied arrangements of constructs of our minds!! ~Soren
Sleeve Notes....... "Our conceptions of human nature affect every aspect of our lives, from the way we raise our children to the political movements we choose to embrace. Yet just as science is bring us into a golden age of understanding human nature, many people are hostile to the idea. They fear that discoveries about innate patterns of thinking and feeling may be used to justify inequality, to subvert social change, to dissolve personal responsibility, and to strip life of meaning and purpose. In 'Blank Slate', Steven Pinker explores the idea of human nature and its moral, emotional, and political colorings. He shows how many intellectuals have denied the existence of human nature by embracing 3 linked dogmas: the blank slate (the mind has no innate traits), the noble savage (people are born good and corroded by society), and the ghost in the machine (each of us has a soul to make choices free from the restrictions of biology). Each dogma carries a moral burden, so their defenders have engaged in desperate tactics to discredit scientists who are now challenging them. Pinker injects calm and rationality into these 3 debates by showing that equality, progress, responsibility, and purpose have nothing to fear from the discoveries about a rich human nature. He disarms even the most menacing threats with clear thinking, common sense, and pertinent facts from science and history. Despite its popularity among intellectuals during much of the twentieth century, he argues, the doctrine of Blank Slate may have done more harm than good. It denies our common humanity and our individual preferences, replaces hard-headed analyses of social problems with feel-good slogans, and distorts our understanding of government, violence, parenting, and the arts. Pinker shows that an acknowledgement of human nature that is grounded in science and common sense, far from being dangerous, can complement insights about the human condition made by millenia of artists and philosophers. All this is done with unutterably remarkable clarity..."
By the bye, i feel as though Eternity is the place that holds...................Time enough for Love. My Dream is to find each and every one of you there. And then....... [nicedream]
05 Jan 2003 Michael Mackellar i seem to recall reading a quote by some spiritually catapulted, vacant presenced marxist involving the idea that it is the natural course... for all intellectuals to commit suicide. Well now, if that is the case, i wonder if suicide is the unnatural course for those who are something aside from being intellectual. i used to fancy myself as being quite an accomplished intellectual, yet with all the mind-warping anti-reality pills i have been unwittingly prescribed over the years, i feel as though i have been transformed into a fucking blockhead. If only i had taken my life during the intellectual days... i would have been well received by the eyes of nature. And here... if i do such a thing now, i fear that flying in the face of naturality may prove to be morbidly embarrassing. Good Heavens!!!! What an unutterably remarkable dilemma. Perhaps i should just develop a more... elevated passion towards life. Such senselessness is certain to deaden the insightful catastrophe which burdens me so. Okay, we now know that it has become prudent to prove to others, along with oneself, that one is unquestionably an intellectual before one can feel free to dislodge oneself from these godforsaken throes of absurdity ............................... and Here is the perfect place to plead your case. So, who dares to appoint the judge and jury?????????? God, sometimes you just don't come through.....
Sleep well, my friends. 'till anon
05 Jan 2003 Michael Mackellar What the hell is that HELLO DOLLY post all about? i thought that was the name the mad scientists gave to the cloned sheep they felt so inclined to subject to heartless redundance... Was it a hint towards having a clone operation performed, and then conditioning your newself in such a manner that he/she becomes perfectly manipulatable?
05 Jan 2003 Michael Mackellar Hell was also having the Woman of your Dreams go fucking symparanecromenial, convincing her to shove a sewing needle through left testicle.
05 Jan 2003 Michael Mackellar How would you define Eternity, Lucy ?
04 Jan 2003 Michael Mackellar Should i dare to awake before the aftermath of the impending inevitability, i feel as though i already know just what the most conniving flames of hell have in store for me...................... no recollection of You.
02 Jan 2003 Michael Mackellar i am vacant from this world in a moment of solitude. i wish to apprehend strength from the ever exhaustion of others. my energy has been sucked from my bone marrow and harvest upon by the vultures of wandering eyes. i now can acknowledge where the strengths derive to arrive from ones lack of intensity and ingenuity. okay, i rest and reserve my strength within the regions where my soul cautizes and dissimulates growth. the best element i have come to comprehend is the measurement of Time. the vultures do not dare conceive time as a gift but a force that damages their waking existence. i now know i can walk, walk out my door and see what i had never dreamed of seeing at the start.............................. GAOLACH DIA the depths of winter longing are ice within my heart/ the shards of broken covenants carve deep into my soul/ the wraiths of long lost ecstasy still tear us two apart/ these sullen winds of bitterness now keen from turn to pole// the scars and twisted tendons the stumps of off-struck limbs/ this aching pit of hunger and throb of unset bone/ my sanded burning eyeballs as light within them dims/ add nothing to this torment of lying here alone// the shimmering flames of fever trace out your blessed face/ my broken eardrums echo yet your voice inside my head/ i do not fear this darkness which crawls toward me apace/ i only dread the loss of YOU that comes when i am dead.... Happy New Year!!! another year to kill... within the forgetful remembrance of how it feels to be alive. ~in the end we tend to love our desires and to loathe what is desired~ Sometimes i feel as though our god must actually be the god of slumber, and that all this blasted time is simply some horridly morbid wet dream that she is going through. Either that or god has become the mother of reverse atheism. What with being responsible for the creation of Infinite Fallibility (aka human consciousness) who could possibly blame her for self inducing some wicked strain of amnesia as means to maintain a shred of sanity. Good Heavens! What a strange matter of humanity being conditioned by time to lose faith in the necessity of a god.... and god, through the distanced romance of eternity, convincing herself that she never really believed in humanity to begin with.
i have had an odd experience involving the consequences of Selbstmord. i had lodged myself in my station wagon, within the midst of a perfectly concealed surrounding upon the outskirts of Pleasant Prairie. The exhaust was pouring in through my father's shop-vac hose and everything was beginning to compose a well conceived silence. It somewhat suddenly dawned upon me that i was far too young, so i pulled myself away. Yet i find it all rather strange since more than 45 minutes limped by before i made my supposed escape... from my escape. i find myself feeling as though perhaps i did succeed. 45 minutes in the throes of such resplendent reasoning is far more than enough time to bump oneself off... perhaps the aftermath of a self-induced disposal is simply a subtle shift in the profound indifference of time/logic. i don't know, perhaps i have been dead for quite some time now, even though i still fancy myself as being so young. Perhaps reality is far more heartless and more conniving than any of us... discontents... could ever dare to imagine. All we have to do is provoke it. The tricks life plays those who are sick enough to take it seriously are far more absurd, no question. imagine
02 Jan 2003 Marius Mackellar Let us pray that nature has developed her sense of discretion, and that she makes good use of it when transmitting the profound fumblings of our history... Lest she blind the very stars with such resplendent unsightliness.

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