Did you really want to die?" "No one commits suicide because they want to die." "Then why do they do it?" "Because they want to stop the pain.
I don't need a reason to kill myself-I need a reason not to.
Should I kill myself, or have a cup of coffee?
When we seek to discover the best in others, we somehow bring out the best in ourselves.
It is silliness to live when to live is torment.
Never give up, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn.
Death is a punishment to some, to others a gift and to many a favour.
I hate myself, and I want to die
When it is darkest, we can see the stars.
If I had no sense of humor I should long ago have committed suicide.
Nothing in my life has ever made me want to commit suicide more than people's reaction to my trying to commit suicide.
I am constantly torn between killing myself and killing everyone around me.
I've never been lonely. I've been in a room... I've felt suicidal, I've been depressed. I've felt awful ... awful beyond all , but I never felt that one other person could enter that room and cure what was bothering me...or that any number of people could enter that room. In other words, loneliness is something I've never been bothered with because I've always had this terrible itch for solitude.
Which of my feelings are real? Which of the me's is me? The wild, impulsive, chaotic, energetic, and crazy one? Or the shy, withdrawn, desperate, suicidal, doomed, and tired one? Probably a bit of both, hopefully much that is neither.
Anyone who suggests that coming back from suicidal despair is a straightforward journey has never taken it.
The fact that some people can push others to the point of thinking that their lives are not worthy is catastrophic.
If you must commit suicide ... always contrive to do it as decorously as possible; the decencies, whether of life or of death, should never be lost sight of.
God, if ever I have come close to wanting to commit suicide, it is now, with the groggy sleepless blood dragging through my veins, and the air thick and gray with rain ... I fell into bed again this morning, begging for sleep, withdrawing into the dark, warm, fetid escape from action, from responsibility. No good.
The thought of suicide is a great source of comfort: with it a calm passage is to be made across many a bad night.
But in the end one needs more courage to live than to kill himself.
I guess I realize that I don't want to die. I don't want to live either, but-there really isn't anything in-between. Depression is about as close as you get to somewhere between dead and alive, and it's the worst. But since the tendency toward inertia means that it's easier for me to stay alive than die, I guess that's how it's going to be, so I guess I should try to be happy.
Suicide is man's way of telling God, 'You can't fire me - I quit.'
I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful when rain bends down the bough; And I shall be more silent and cold hearted than you are now.
Simply wait, be quiet, still The world will freely offer itself to you.
It's a bit like the feeling I get when I'm standing on a cliff or high building, looking down at a suicidal drop. I start thinking about what would happen if I stepped off, the rush of the fall, the shattering collision, the quiet emptiness of death. Part of me wants to experience the thrill of complete surrender.
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