Awareness There is a dark place. A place where I have no eyes, no mouth. No words. I can't cry out because I have no breath. The silence is so deep I want to die. But I can't. The darkness and silence go on forever. It is not a dream. I don't dream.
I want to live but I want to die. What do I do?
Death is very likely the single best invention of life.
I thought, “I want to die. I want to die more than ever before. There’s no chance now of a recovery. No matter what sort of thing I do, no matter what I do, it’s sure to be a failure, just a final coating applied to my shame. That dream of going on bicycles to see a waterfall framed in summer leaves—it was not for the likes of me. All that can happen now is that one foul, humiliating sin will be piled on another, and my sufferings will become only the more acute. I want to die. I must die. Living itself is the source of sin.
I don't think I want to win anything I think I want to die unadorned.
I hate myself, and I want to die
Yes -- or rather, it's not so much that I want to die as that I'm tired of living.
It's just a relief, really. I'm scared to die, but I want to die.
You wake up and you feel - what? Heaviness, an ache inside, a weight, yes. A soft crumpling of the flesh. A feeling like all the surfaces inside you have been rubbed raw. A voice in your head - no, not voices, not like hearing voices, nothing that crazy, just your own inner voice, the one that says 'Turn left at the corner' or 'Don't forget to stop at the post office,' only now it's saying, 'I hate myself.' It's saying, 'I want to die.'
I am not afraid of death. I just don't want to be there when it happens.
I want to die in my own way. It's my illness, my death, my choice. This is what saying yes means.
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.
I said to myself, 'I want to die decently'.
When I die, I want to die like my grandfather who died peacefully in his sleep. Not screaming like all the passengers in his car.
Please, please. Don't cry like that. I'm going to go mad. I don't want to see you again. I need to see you again... I'm sick of it. Because as soon as we have to say goodbye... I want to die. (Ritsuka)
I want to die on my own terms.
Death is the destination we all share, no one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be because death is very likely the single best invention of life.
I want to die young. I think it's awful to get old, and sickness is ugly.
I don't want to die of some disease I want to die of death
I wish that I was dead. Oh, they'll be sorry then. I hate them and I'll kill myself tomorrow. I want to die. I hate them, hate them. Hate.
I don't belong. Not here. Not now. I have to get back there. The bet was rigged, he made me believe. Now there's darkness in my soul. I want to die . . . again. But I choose to come back, why?
If I want to die, what am I saving myself for?
Whatever you want to do, do it now. There are only so many tomorrows.
God, I want to die in you.
Do I want to die from the inside out or the outside in?
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