Date	Name/email Nom/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?
21 May 2009	M.M. a.k.a. billy the freak	hello friends, emzyme, you...i don't know what to say. you are certainly thought provoking. you are so right, mediocrity is sure fire way to a simple life. i find being educated, talented, and different in a dumbed down society makes you a target on many levels. i live in a place where they cannot read, but can certainly multiply further diluting humanity. am i renegade? am i an anomaly? i don't feel as if i'm a part of everything else. cassie olivia, please, before you kill yourself consider billy's suicide solutions to give you the perfect end to a not so perfect life. email me for a quote. time warp, you really should only stay up till 3:00 in the morning if you are reading through my past post. these can be found in mouchettes favourites archive and of course in the fameous users search under billy. watch the movie donnie darko i think this will put some of your thoughts in perspective. oh, elaine and joe lee great to see you again. now lets see if we can get some of our old friends to visit. I think we need more friends to make the game interesting. billy the freak
16 May 2009	Enzyme	O.K. my charming undead miscreants. Captain Enzyme is back with more. I really should be writing my screenplay but I do love all you demon bats so. Gotta post. First off, it seems that old shuddering hag, "lack of love/loss of affection/isolation" is still bogging everyone down. Again and again. She’s a suppurating spinster that won’t relax her grip on your throats my dears. So let’s take her on. Many of us naturally suffer from the paradox of a loveless, peppermint-flavored existence. Counting on our clawed fingers the people that adore us. The list diminishes. You choke on the hissing feline sensation that you’re a cog in the machine, a drowsy doddering afterbirth, shuddering and clawing your face off while no one takes notice, yes? I know my darling dryads, I know. Truth is, the acquisition of other humanoids who adore you is a poor qualifier of one’s merit. Think upon those slogging peons you know who have the adoration of other carbon-biased forms of life. Honestly, are they as lusciously sensitive as you? Do they wrap their animal spirits in warping insanity and eternal goblin delight? Didn’t think so. How many times have they watched “Labyrinth”, huh? Most likely they are not interesting, not in the cosmic “Dirk Bogarde” sense anyway. Run of the mill (great term!). Why? Because the less complex of a creature you are, the easier it is for others to convince themselves they ‘love’ you. The more of a blank attractive slate you are, the simpler it is for others to project their ideals upon your Etch-A-Sketch scalp. We beasts of the underworld are few and far between. A rarified endangered species, and we can only truly mate or flourish around our own kind. You know of what I speak. Some of you may even be married, with comrades abounding, but still the grip of chaos and isolation tightens inside your golden ribcage. The shuddering clarity you fear is omnipresent. Deep down in the copper mine of yourself you know they are not your real tribe. Not your breed of cerebral cortex. So you feel alone. Pitiful. Trapped. All you really long for is other rare shuddering psychokinetic underlings who, like, really really “grok” you, man. Naturally you’re going to be disappointed if you expect us to be around every corner. It’s like digging up your yard looking for moles and expecting every mole you find to be a rare Brazilian naked mole-rat with corrugated albino eyes worth millions on the naked mole-rat black market. ‘Aint gonna happen. Nor would you want it to, think of the adverse effect it would have on the mole market’s price fluctuation. Regardless, you see the point I’m making here. So what can you do? Well, think of your vibrating demonic dawn-soul as a submarine beacon humming and transmitting radio signals out across the interstate to the rest of your creed. If you are indeed an endangered species you owe it to the rest of us to stay alive, if only so the ecosystem isn’t clogged with boring happy people who love life, have great sex, and walk around with frozen grins on their Plasticine features. Can’t let those punks win out. What would you say to the last of the endangered monkey-whales drifting through the cataclysmic deep of the ocean’s womb? Cherish your rarity. And invest in naked mole-rats. Love Enzyme, of the Petrified Forest. P.S. Plus, by some miracle you could grow up, meet Mouchette at some subterranean cocktail party, fall in love, and travel around the country killing people and living in tree houses ala “Badlands”. Hey, it could happen, you never know…
13 May 2009	Kuborion	Remember, kids! When you're asking for help on a site like this, it's extremely rude to kill yourself before it's even posted.
13 May 2009	Kuborion	If you really need to convince yourself that life is worth living, then maybe the answer's just no.
17 Apr 2009	Ken G	Hi. I'm a 51 year old guy. No I'm not going to tell you how to kill yourself. Because I know you and everyone else thinking about doing that.. Rooftop of an 18 story building? Been there. Standing on a ladder with a rope around my neck? Yup. Confined for 72 hours against my will in a lock down ward? 3 weeks inpatient therapy at a mental hospital? Done those too. And about 20 different meds. And then one of the meds started working. I'm lucky. For some people meds don't work or have awful side effects. There's no way to tell except try them. And that takes time. Took me 18 years. No they're not happy pills. But they can take away the desperation. And then you see new ways to think. When we were young we wanted to put everything in categories with names. But that limits how you see and think. "Am I gay or straight?" 2 categories. But you can be sometimes one, or the other, or both, or in the middle. Sex is like a game. If you say to yourself "I'm totally a football player." Fine, play football. But that doesn't mean you can't enjoy baseball too. So many times I hear depressed or stressed people say "Such is the only way." That's limited thinking. Without limits the horrible can be seen as just an annoyance. I owe my life to a guy named Matt (I don't even know his last name) that talked me out of jumping 31 years ago. It's been rough at times. But worth it. I hope before killing yourself that you'll consider maybe your thinking could change and whatever reasons you have might not be fixed in stone. And that maybe, someday, you'll like yourself and the world. I'll check in here every once and a while. Feel free to ask anything either here or in email.
13 Apr 2009	entry two	Hello Mouchette, I hope you're well. I'm disregarding your prompt again, sorry. There's a baby dying outside my window. Then again it's probably just a cat murmuring, with help from overtones of my imagination. I wish I slept in a bed with lots and lots of strange people, now that's the way to live, or sleep, rather. These things I say are all bullshit. I will continue to contradict myself while fearing each new utterance and creation. Thats preposterous, I'm sorry, I'm not helping any cause. I show my true colors in cyberspace and bleed into blurbs, watching the green flicker of text as badly spelled sentences of someone not thinking mind(out loud!, in text,) types out their strongly one sided yet poorly worded argument of "ballsack". I apologies, this is non sensible, and would surely offended any English teacher. Just remember, your preconceptions magnified is what sculpts your society into a strict rule book. Just laugh at what is and carry on with your indifference in the world of what's not. P.S. It's my birthday today. Huzzah I'm dying!
10 Apr 2009	entry one	These days, I wear no socks, I find no need. My spit is mixed with other substances and my nose is always running. I am also convinced a ten year old boy is gay for me, or maybe I'm just very bored. Really, I'm just loosing my imagination, which is a strange process. I'm afraid this might be hard to read because of how often I shift thoughts. Sorry about that. All my money has been spent on friendship, which is starting to take the form of pot. Today I am not high though. Thinking results in a bad mood, not thinking results in injury. The in-between is very mundane, to me at-least. Oh, by the way, pardon me, but I haven't yet addressed your question Mouchette, I don't plan on doing it either, if that's alright with you. I wonder if what I'm doing right now can be called something. Naming things makes them less real. I'm always apologizing because I'm always confronted with the idea that what I'm doing is not at all what I wish it was. Whatever, I've finally experienced legitimate criticism, which only leads back to my original road of interpretation. If there are such things as parallel universes does the clause of prospective still exist? What I mean to say is: If this is reality why is it different for everyone? Please try and think about what you're doing with your life next time you buy coffee or do school work or try to hold a conversation you don't at all have interest in with someone. If you find your self feeling bad though try and grasp the idea that rules don't exist and everything is only matter, the fact that you can understand the abstract is the reason you might feel miserable. What if you didn't?
01 Apr 2009	bahia	life is a good suicide...
13 Mar 2009		The truth is, I only act humorous as performance, I'm well aware of how crazy I look all the time. I can't control the outward reflection of this neurosis, so I am forced make it a comedy for anyone near by. I hate the way I act around people, I'm such an asshole really. If any of them knew how truly empty I feel, and how every faltering step of ambition is analyzed till I feel sick, and how much I hate myself, and how many things I've kept secret, fuck. This bottle wont finish itself, goodnight.
11 Mar 2009	Venla	Thank you for calling 1-800-SUICIDE If you wish to self terminate by electric shock - press one For termination by overdose - press two If you would like to make a reservation at the end of our drowning pool - please press three For termination by hanging - please press four For death by self inflicting gunshot - press five To speak to a representative, stay online If you do not wish to die - please hang up now Zeromancer - Doctor online
22 Jan 2009	Jeff	Here's something I was thinking about. It only works for people who believe there is more than this life though, amd don't know what's on the other side like myself. I believe there is more than this world because I see so many coincidences sometimes that it seems to me something is happening behind the scenes. I'm sorry this doesn't work for people who believe death is the ultimate end though. It's kind of like Pascal's Wager, applied to suicide. If the next life is a terrible place even worse than this world, then you should stay here because it's better. But if there is a better world than where we are, then it's probably by design that we're here. Why else would we have left it? We probably came here to learn and to experience. And by commiting suicide you are checking out early. There's obviously something to be gained by sticking around. So when we finally do return to that better place, we made the best of our choice to come and be alive here, we suffered and we endured. It's the cool people that commit suicide because they don't belong in this world. We see the way things should be. But it's because of that that we should stay here. We are the ones who understand, and we are here for a reason, though we may not know why while we're here.
26 Dec 2008	Aureus	Dear Mouchette, What do you do when almost every thought that enters your mind runs along the standpoint of suicide, yet you are too afraid to give it a try?
26 Dec 2008	Mark	If you packed some can, tea, A few packs of biscuit, cigarettes, A fairy-chess booklet and something to drink: Roll down the shutter. Let the clock stop. The phone rings often: people are so wilful. Ringing. Spot waiting in the knurly glass. The hood of the mail slot smacks. Peeked... but inside: haze. After: no more phone calls, no more visitors. And your doormat chocked to your door for days now... Did you know that the mouchette.org is printed in a tachen-book? the title is newmedia-art. i am here because i red the book in hungary.
26 Dec 2008	Murderer at your service	If I could murder one person in your life, whom would you want me to kill?
19 Nov 2008	Aureus	Dear Mouchette, Today I downed a bunch of pills (apparently not enough)... and the thoughts that ran through my head were a whirlwind of distortion. Somewhere along the way, my mind stumbled upon you for a brief moment. I wondered where you were in the world at the moment I ingested this substance. I wondered what you look like and what you do for a living. You must be confused yourself to host a suicide website... but who am I to place judgement? Life to me has been this strange merry go round, I've tried to hold on tight to the handle bars as the music courses through this misguided brain of mine. Sometimes I fall off only to get back on, I wonder if there is anyone else with me on this strange mechanism of false happiness. I hope someday soon I can walk off without getting dizzy, or stop the ride myself... Until next time Mouchette.
11 Nov 2008	Kuborion	When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom, Let it be. And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me, speaking words of wisdom, Let it be. Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be. Whisper words of wisdom, let it be. And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree, there will be an answer, Let it be. For though they may be parted there is still a chance that they will see, there will be an answer. Let it be. Let it be, let it be, ..... And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light, that shines on me, shine until tomorrow, Let it be. I wake up to the sound of music, Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom, Let it be. Let it be, let it be, .....
02 Oct 2008	the poet's entourage	What's with being left out and feeling like its your fault entirely?
18 Aug 2008	Joe Lee	Hi, this is Joe, it’s been a while, I hope everyone is doing well in this fucked up world. I am just as fucked up as ever, the weird thing is after a person been crazy for so long, it actually start to feel normal now. Of course I can’t speak objectively about my condition, but everyone think I am fucking nuts to some insane degree, so I will take people’s word for it. I been reading some of my past writings and just shocked at what I wrote, it was kind of funny too, but mostly shocked by the strangeness of my past state of mind, multiple personality is a bitch, and it is even worse when people don’t tell you anything about it and just watch you make a fool out of yourself. It is like all my personalities feels normal to me, but I only know the different by my past actions. When I was little I thought the whole world is simply my imagination, and then as I grow up, I realize it is impossible… maybe it is possible, I do feel sorry for people and things living inside of my imaginations. Lately I have a lot of déjà vu experiences that is like I have seen it or done it before, but I swear to god that I never done any of it in the past. Maybe I just don’t remember my past actions because I am so crazy, but why don’t people tell me. It is as if all my personalities evolve over the time and I simply can’t tell the difference any more. I feel as normal as ever right now, but is that objectively speaking? I don’t know about you kids, but I have real problems, multiple problems since I was little. Too many things feel so familiar to me that I feel I am some sort of genius who just know things naturally, but maybe in fact, I just don’t remember what I have done before because I did with separate sets of head. Someone once told me “You know more than you think you know.” I was like what the fuck is that suppose to mean? Now I think I begin to know. Maybe I am a good person, for all that is good will end up well Maybe I am bad, and then this is hell… hell, that does ring a bell, guess only time can tell The more and more I begin to understand myself, the more and more I feel it’s too late for me now. If I really did kill myself when I was 13, it will be worth it… too late for me now, I have gone too far and it’s getting too exciting just trying to figure myself out. Lately I been very paranoid about that I may have some supernatural power, at one point, I thought my dog was actually God. I was so depressed and mad and thought nothing could make me happy again, and just then my dog put a paper bag over her head and running like a fool. I was like “Only God could make me laugh with such good timing”… and I was seriously trying to communicate to her as if she is a God… you might feel that is crazy, but I believed it, I still believe it to some degree because some of my prediction actually did come true. So if you are really only 13 or younger and you want to die, I say think it over, try to be objective about your own craziness, then if you think you might end up like me, I say either really fucking do it or just steal some money and go travel the world. Sometimes, you could at least numb your senses when you travel and seeing new places. Try to sell your soul to the devil or Jesus if you haven’t already, either deal should intensify your psychotic ride.
15 Aug 2008	Doug, old friend and lover	The best way to kill yourself when you're under 13 is to remain under 13 forever. Now this is an abstract answer, but I know, Mouchette, you will understand as I'm sure you're sophisticated audience will, as well. *bisous* DB8088, old friend and lover
01 Aug 2008	dead inside.	This is the end. I can feel it in my bones, in my skin. Like a disease eating each molecule of my being one by one. Something inside me is dying. Again. I can feel it. It makes my bones ache. I can't afford to let anything more die inside me. I've lost so much...I've been hanging on by threads. A cool breeze came and saved me a few years ago. It filled me with fresh life...I felt alive. I could feel with every nerve in my body. My blood flowed through me like a clean river, cleansing each organ, each memory, each thought. The parts that died so long ago were awakened. They rejoiced. Drank from the river as if it was the last water left to drink from. Each part of me was alive...or atleast working its way to being alive again. Being fully functional again. But in some deep dark part of my head I knew that it was just a breeze. It would come and go. Like all things in life. It would come and cleanse my world, awaken me.....then blow away, to find someone else....leaving me to die all over again. But to my surprise, it stayed. It kept vivifying me with its life. Whispering secrets in my ear. Willing me to live. Willing me to feel. Willing me to breathe. And so I lived. And I felt. And I breathed. Every morning, I'd wake up thinking, this is the day it leaves....today I will be alone again. But it stayed with me. It completed me. Like a puzzle. It filled in all those missing pieces. It covered me. Like a lover. It stayed over, keeping me safe. Protecting me. Loving me. When the wind blew from the other direction, my breeze fought it. The other winds tried to blow me away....tried to suck me into their abyss of nothingness....but my heavenly breeze was strong. It blew and fought....until all those that tried to hurt me, that tried to take me away from it, faded away. It stayed with me on all those black nights when I was sure something big and bad would jump out of the shadows and consume me. It fought for me. It kept me alive. It strengthened me. And so I started believing that it would stay with me forever. For all of eternity. It would hold me together. Everything inside me became clean. Pure like a virgin. Unharmed and untouched. It caressed me where no hand can touch. At each caress, my nerves tingled with life. And just like that it became my whole world. But then, when I let all my walls down...when I started believing that I would never be alone again, never be left at the worlds mercy again......it blew away. Just like any other gust of wind. My heavenly breeze blew past me. Away from me. Taking all the life and warmth it had brought with it. And I was left gasping for air. Each breath of air felt like poison, because I couldn't taste the sweetness of that comfort that I thought would always be mine. My breeze left me just like that. Like I was nothing special. Like it had better things to do. And I know that it is out there now, protecting someone else. Someone who deserves it more then me. Yet, I am selfish...it was mine. It was my protector. It was my lover. And now I am dying inside all over again. Each part that was caressed now withers away like the remains of a long forgotten corpse. Each organ that once bloomed to life, like a rose....has now deflated; become hallow once more. All the life, the warmth, the comfort, the love.....all of it is gone. I am empty. Just a shell. I try to beckon it. Try to will my breeze to come back to me. But it doesn't hear me. Maybe it was all a distant dream. But at night, when the demons come out to take my soul away....something inside me trembles, shudders with the memories of my breeze. My aura still lingers with the scent of the protection that was once there. The demons eat chunks of my soul. The try to devour my heart. But I wrap my arms around me, hugging myself, whispering to that distant breeze, calling out to it, coaxing it, summoning it to come save me again. No one comes. I am dying again. I cannot survive the world without my breeze. I whisper to it at night. I believe it is out there somewhere. The world will not let me survive. Without it I am nothing. I miss you. I will always love you. The places you once filled inside me are still empty...awaiting your return. I won't survive this without you. I need you. Please breathe life back into my bones. Please gust my way once more. Please.

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