7Zo9T8A2
New Member
- Sep 9, 2023
- 4
You can call me 7, for no other reason than it being the first thing in this random name I'm using here. I have been a lurker for a while, until today. I read a post from the user HighOctane titled "This boys life". His post made me reconsider that sharing my experiences and what's happened to me might be worth something for someone, even if it is to make one person finally take the decision to write a post and let it all out. Sometimes letting it all out is all that is needed to save a life, after all.
I'm just a dude, I'm 30, and I have never told my story to anyone. I will do my best to keep it short. Other people here like Knydane or Pinkribbonscars have worded some things better than I will ever be able to, so I hope you forgive me for using some of their almost masterpiece wording from their previous posts and answers. Words born from pain. Without further ado, I wanted to start my story by the end, with my death. (Please understand that the information offered is for educational purposes only.)
In 2 words, judicial hanging. I will let my body drop from a distance greater than my body's height and instantaneous death might occur due to spinal cord transection. If it doesn't, I will die hanged. If the rope breaks, I will still die due to extreme height. There is one reason that can make me CTB in a different way, but that reason needs to wait until a bit later.
I have been suicidal since I was 5 years old and starting to reason. Something never clicked for me in this world. I was seriously bullied in school until the age of 12, you know the deal: verbal abuse and physical beatings. That's where I started really developing anger issues, and the person I was most angry about was myself. My family has a long history of suicides, so I am not surprised my metal started rotting this early in my life.
One of my grandfathers turned out to be a pedo, abusing my brother when he was a baby. I told my mother and she screamed at me, and called me a liar. To this day she still thinks I am a miserable person, twisted enough to make up something like that. I could not count on my father; he was busy beating me up every now and then. My family also has a history of anger issues. My uncle almost beats my grandmother to death, for example. Apart from that, my parents were supportive, I never was forced to study anything I did not want to, or do anything I was not looking to do, so that was a positive.
I discovered arts and psychology were passions for me, so I started getting some serious knowledge. It was natural for me to the point that I was better psychologist than both my psychology teacher and our high school psychologist. Where I grew up, men did not talk about their emotions or their problems, so I can't talk about them. But a lot of young women in that high school turned to me, because they could not talk to their boyfriends or their family.
I prevented at least 6 suicides attempts, and helped dozens of young women to move on and find what they enjoyed about life. I am happy to report that all of them are all right and living happy, meaningful life's at this moment.
I was helping people, but no one was helping me. You see, I learned quickly that no one sane wanted to deal with my home problems, my rough childhood, my anger issues, or my suicidal thoughts. This is where I want to use some of the wording from Knydane. This person said, and quote "everyone expects me to do everything for them and be happy around them". I instantaneously read that and thought to myself, yes, that is right.
Back then I used to practice extreme sports wishing one day I would not come back. That made me somewhat popular at high school too, and I am not the antisocial kind, nor the social kind. I sit right in the middle, so I was fine with that. Breaking stuff at home and punching walls was getting more and more common every day.
One day rollerblading out on the streets, in the middle of traffic on a tight road I saw 2 trucks, big enough that they could instantly crush me, so I sprinted in the middle, if that would not kill me, the truck going over me would, for sure. Unfortunately for me one of the drivers saw me on time and made a sign to the other truck driver, so they just let me through.
This brings me to the last part of the story. I did not finish high school. I had to get out of the household, so I end up moving to another country by the age of 19. Homeless and without English was still better than that dogshit hell hole I was in. Like if luck was on my side for once I only stayed homeless for 1 day and found work the same week.
When I left my country, no one cared, even those I helped. I never had friends, just "everyone expects me to do everything for them and be happy around them" (thank you again, Knydane). I had a bunch of long-term relationships, the last of which ended up with the girl cheating on me and leaving to live with him instead, she also did not pay her part of the rent that month, so I got evicted because of her, funny enough. Almost homeless again. She was the one that got in terms and decided to deal with the landlord so I did not know until I could not do anything about it.
Eventually I made one friend, if I can call her that. One person that at least asks me if I am OK, and stays even when the answer is no, I am not. But I treasure her enough to not tell her anything, not my past, not my struggles, I don't want the only person that remotely cared for me to deal with my shit. This is where I want to use some wording by other user, Pinkribbonscars. And quote "Committing suicide is so lonely because you want to say good bye or have people with you before you go but you can't because they'll involuntarily commit you otherwise." True words, yet again. I just wish I had someone like that before I made my decision.
I'm sick and tired of dealing with this darkness that grows withing me since I was 5 years old. I am tired of this anger that consumes me from the inside. I am tired of hating and being so angry at myself, of beating myself to a pulp. So let this be a warning. I improved my physique. I practiced my best smiles and faces on a mirror. I improved my economic situation, and none of that mattered. If your hopes reside on any of this things to improve, because you think this will be it, the thing that will make everything else click for you and save you, let me be that friend that tells you the cold truth you do not want to hear, because knowing this will be less painful for you than working for it and realizing by yourself. None of this will make you feel any better. None of this will make the pain go away. None of this will make you feel less lonely.
At the beginning of this post, I said that there was one reason that could make me CTB in a different way, but that reason needed to wait. So here it is. Drowning is one of the most agonizing deaths you can have. I am helping someone right now, I met her randomly in a pub. If I fail to help this person, I will get some serious weight, a boat and drown myself on the sea instead, where no one could ever find me. No one will miss me, and the one who would doesn't even know me enough to really care that much. It can bother some people for a while, but they will get over it. I will take as long as I need to help this person, until this person succeeds or fails, and then I'm gone. That's my goodbye.
I'm not scared. I never was. I never believed in gods or higher powers, just in the cruelty of human beings. I leave like I lived, trying to help. Because I know too well when no one cares about you, not even enough to listen to you, much less help you in any meaningful way. Unless its convenient for them. If you are reading this, I want you to know that I tried. I really, really tried. But after 30 years I am tired. I am exhausted. 25 years have not done anything for me but help amplify my dark thoughts. I did not ask to be born, nor to have to deal with life. Yet I still did. And that did not change a thing.
I'm just a dude, I'm 30, and I have never told my story to anyone. I will do my best to keep it short. Other people here like Knydane or Pinkribbonscars have worded some things better than I will ever be able to, so I hope you forgive me for using some of their almost masterpiece wording from their previous posts and answers. Words born from pain. Without further ado, I wanted to start my story by the end, with my death. (Please understand that the information offered is for educational purposes only.)
In 2 words, judicial hanging. I will let my body drop from a distance greater than my body's height and instantaneous death might occur due to spinal cord transection. If it doesn't, I will die hanged. If the rope breaks, I will still die due to extreme height. There is one reason that can make me CTB in a different way, but that reason needs to wait until a bit later.
I have been suicidal since I was 5 years old and starting to reason. Something never clicked for me in this world. I was seriously bullied in school until the age of 12, you know the deal: verbal abuse and physical beatings. That's where I started really developing anger issues, and the person I was most angry about was myself. My family has a long history of suicides, so I am not surprised my metal started rotting this early in my life.
One of my grandfathers turned out to be a pedo, abusing my brother when he was a baby. I told my mother and she screamed at me, and called me a liar. To this day she still thinks I am a miserable person, twisted enough to make up something like that. I could not count on my father; he was busy beating me up every now and then. My family also has a history of anger issues. My uncle almost beats my grandmother to death, for example. Apart from that, my parents were supportive, I never was forced to study anything I did not want to, or do anything I was not looking to do, so that was a positive.
I discovered arts and psychology were passions for me, so I started getting some serious knowledge. It was natural for me to the point that I was better psychologist than both my psychology teacher and our high school psychologist. Where I grew up, men did not talk about their emotions or their problems, so I can't talk about them. But a lot of young women in that high school turned to me, because they could not talk to their boyfriends or their family.
I prevented at least 6 suicides attempts, and helped dozens of young women to move on and find what they enjoyed about life. I am happy to report that all of them are all right and living happy, meaningful life's at this moment.
I was helping people, but no one was helping me. You see, I learned quickly that no one sane wanted to deal with my home problems, my rough childhood, my anger issues, or my suicidal thoughts. This is where I want to use some of the wording from Knydane. This person said, and quote "everyone expects me to do everything for them and be happy around them". I instantaneously read that and thought to myself, yes, that is right.
Back then I used to practice extreme sports wishing one day I would not come back. That made me somewhat popular at high school too, and I am not the antisocial kind, nor the social kind. I sit right in the middle, so I was fine with that. Breaking stuff at home and punching walls was getting more and more common every day.
One day rollerblading out on the streets, in the middle of traffic on a tight road I saw 2 trucks, big enough that they could instantly crush me, so I sprinted in the middle, if that would not kill me, the truck going over me would, for sure. Unfortunately for me one of the drivers saw me on time and made a sign to the other truck driver, so they just let me through.
This brings me to the last part of the story. I did not finish high school. I had to get out of the household, so I end up moving to another country by the age of 19. Homeless and without English was still better than that dogshit hell hole I was in. Like if luck was on my side for once I only stayed homeless for 1 day and found work the same week.
When I left my country, no one cared, even those I helped. I never had friends, just "everyone expects me to do everything for them and be happy around them" (thank you again, Knydane). I had a bunch of long-term relationships, the last of which ended up with the girl cheating on me and leaving to live with him instead, she also did not pay her part of the rent that month, so I got evicted because of her, funny enough. Almost homeless again. She was the one that got in terms and decided to deal with the landlord so I did not know until I could not do anything about it.
Eventually I made one friend, if I can call her that. One person that at least asks me if I am OK, and stays even when the answer is no, I am not. But I treasure her enough to not tell her anything, not my past, not my struggles, I don't want the only person that remotely cared for me to deal with my shit. This is where I want to use some wording by other user, Pinkribbonscars. And quote "Committing suicide is so lonely because you want to say good bye or have people with you before you go but you can't because they'll involuntarily commit you otherwise." True words, yet again. I just wish I had someone like that before I made my decision.
I'm sick and tired of dealing with this darkness that grows withing me since I was 5 years old. I am tired of this anger that consumes me from the inside. I am tired of hating and being so angry at myself, of beating myself to a pulp. So let this be a warning. I improved my physique. I practiced my best smiles and faces on a mirror. I improved my economic situation, and none of that mattered. If your hopes reside on any of this things to improve, because you think this will be it, the thing that will make everything else click for you and save you, let me be that friend that tells you the cold truth you do not want to hear, because knowing this will be less painful for you than working for it and realizing by yourself. None of this will make you feel any better. None of this will make the pain go away. None of this will make you feel less lonely.
At the beginning of this post, I said that there was one reason that could make me CTB in a different way, but that reason needed to wait. So here it is. Drowning is one of the most agonizing deaths you can have. I am helping someone right now, I met her randomly in a pub. If I fail to help this person, I will get some serious weight, a boat and drown myself on the sea instead, where no one could ever find me. No one will miss me, and the one who would doesn't even know me enough to really care that much. It can bother some people for a while, but they will get over it. I will take as long as I need to help this person, until this person succeeds or fails, and then I'm gone. That's my goodbye.
I'm not scared. I never was. I never believed in gods or higher powers, just in the cruelty of human beings. I leave like I lived, trying to help. Because I know too well when no one cares about you, not even enough to listen to you, much less help you in any meaningful way. Unless its convenient for them. If you are reading this, I want you to know that I tried. I really, really tried. But after 30 years I am tired. I am exhausted. 25 years have not done anything for me but help amplify my dark thoughts. I did not ask to be born, nor to have to deal with life. Yet I still did. And that did not change a thing.
