suicide note compilation

[nembutal]

making a thread with the goal of compiling as many suicide notes as possible to look back at for inspiration for my own. perhaps helpful to others as well. trying to stay away from the more sensationalized notes such as cobain's and focusing on lesser known cases. notes can be followed by both successful and unsuccessful attempts.

format is as such: note, name, year of birth and death (if applicable) and method.

feel free to share your own while i wait to be able to post the first entry separately.

 

[GuessWhosBack]

good idea, I'll watch the thread in case I change my mind about leaving a note

 

[nembutal]

"No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun—for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your age. Relax — This won't hurt."
-
Hunter S Thompson (1937-2005), self inflicted gunshot wound to the head

 

[nembutal]

"Dearest,

I feel certain I am going mad again. I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I shan't recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can't concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don't think two people could have been happier till this terrible disease came. I can't fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can't even write this properly. I can't read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that — everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can't go on spoiling your life any longer.

I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been."

Virginia Woolf (1882-1941)
Suicide by Drowning

 

[nembutal]

christopher dorner manifesto

Christopher Jordan Dorner (June 4, 1979[2] – February 12, 2013) was a former officer of the Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD) who, beginning on February 3, 2013, committed a series of killings against the LAPD in Orange County, Los Angeles County, Riverside Countyand San Bernardino County in the U.S. state of California.[3] The victims were law enforcement officers and the daughter of a retired police captain. Dorner killed four people and wounded three others. On February 12, Dorner killed himself after a shootout with the San Bernardino County Sheriff's Departmentdeputies in the San Bernardino Mountains.

article

 

[ToMoveOn]

"I am going to put myself to sleep now for a bit longer than usual. Call it Eternity." - Jerzy Kosiński (1933-1991)

He ingested a large amount of alcohol and drugs and wrapped a plastic bag around his head, suffocating himself to death.

 

[nembutal]

"Human life consists in mutual service. No grief, pain, misfortunate, or "broken heart" is excuse for cutting off one's life while any power of service remains. But when all usefulness is over, when one is assured of unavoidable and imminent death, it is the simplest of human rights to choose a quick and easy death in place of a slow and horrible one. Public opinion is changing on this subject. The time is approaching when we shall consider it abhorrent to our civilization to allow a human being to die in prolonged agony which we should mercifully end in any other creature. Believing this open choice to be of social service in promoting wiser views on this question, I have preferred chloroform to cancer."

- Charlotte Perkins Gilman (1860-1935)
Overdose of chloroform

 

[nembutal]

"The suicide, she wrote (employing the term as a noun), can't actually desire to kill herself, because death is a negative, and one can't wish for a negative. The death wish is thus a surrogate for another desire, e.g. 'I want you to love me,' 'I want to hurt you,' 'I want you to stop hurting me,' 'I want to be recognized.'"

-excerpt from an article i thought was thought provoking

 

[null_blank]

"No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun—for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your age. Relax — This won't hurt."
-
Hunter S Thompson (1937-2005), self inflicted gunshot wound to the head

Football Season Is Over

 

[tenshi天神]

"Mom and Dad, You have provided [m]e excellent advantages and privileges and experiences. I am extremely grateful for all of your sacrifices, time and support. I am now repaying you with an arrogant act. In this light, I do see it as criminal. I can only hope that you see that it was me who caused it. I never did develop into a real person and I cannot tolerate the false and empty existence I have created. It is best if I cease to live, quietly, than risk that later I will break and shatter by violence or linger years under care. I implore you to see a psychiatrist in order that you might understand my death and my life. Ask thoroughly about what I was and you will see that it is not tragic that I am gone but more natural than if I continued. I was born with a definite pervasive melancholy. What frustrated me most in the last year was that I had built no ties to family or friends. There was nothing of lasting worth and value. I led a detached existence and I was a parody of a person-literally and figuratively. I didn't tell jokes-I was a joke. I am a bomb of frustration and should never marry or have children. It is safest to defuse the bomb harmlessly now. I do not want to bother with being a "reformed and cured" person limping through life. I am this self-centered. I am no longer interested in the world and know that it is not interested in me. When you stop growing you are dead. I stopped growing long ago."

Plaquemines Parish John Doe was a teenager who hanged himself from a persimmon tree in 1975. his note always really touched me, & I hope I can see his name returned to him before I ctb.

 

[nembutal]

«Не могу жить, когда гибнет моё Отечество и уничтожается всё, что я всегда считал смыслом в моей жизни. Возраст и прошедшая моя жизнь дают мне право уйти из жизни. Я боролся до конца.»

Rough Translation:
"I cannot live when my Motherland is dying and when everything I have considered the meaning of my life is being destroyed. My age and my experiences give me the right to die. I fought till the end."

-Sergei Akhromeyev (1923-1991), hanging

——

"No one has yet written candidly of the mental state of one who is to commit suicide.This may be due to the self-respect of the suicide victim, or perhaps a lack of psychological interest in his
own state of mind. In this, my final letter to you, I will endeavour to make clear my mental state. But even if I should fail to convey my motives to you accurately, I will still be satisfied in the attempt. In one of his short stories, Régnier depicts a man who commits suicide, but does not himself understand for what reason. You can find many motivations for suicide in the police section of the newspaper, from fiscal hardship or ill health to mental anguish. In my experience these do not represent the totality of motives, but only speak of the journey towards the true reason. Those who commit suicide are for the most part as Régnier depicted, unaware of their real motivation. Suicide, as with all our actions, involves a complexity of motives. In my case, I am driven by, at the very least, a vague sense of unease: some indistinct sense of unease towards my future. It is possible that you will not be able to take me at my word. Ten years of experience have taught me that for those who are not my close and constant acquaintances, my words
dissipate like a song in the wind. So I would not blame you…

For the past two years I have thought incessantly of death. It was also during this period that I
read Mainländer, whose work has become deeply ingrained in my consciousness. I am certain
that Mainländer quite ingeniously depicts the journey towards death, couched in abstract words. I want to depict the same in a more concrete form. I have no greater desire than this, not even
sympathy to my family. This might seem to you nothing less than "inhuman," but if you deem me
inhuman, know that I am only superficially so.

I am duty bound to write all this honestly (I feel that I have already made every effort to examine
my vague sense of unease towards my future in "A Fool's Life." In it, I deliberately chose not to write about a certain social factor whose shadow still hangs over me – the feudal era. This is
because we humans are even today living in its shadow to some extent. I tried to write only of the
scenery, lighting, and actors – for the most part my own acting – that appeared on other stages
than that one. Besides, I could not but entertain doubts as to whether I myself could clearly
understand this social condition while living in the midst of it). My primary concern was how to
die in such a way as to minimize suffering. Hanging is, of course, the most appropriate method
for this purpose. But when I lingered on the image of my own dangling form, I was overcome by
a lavish feeling of aesthetic disgust (I remember a time when I loved a certain woman, but lost
my feelings towards her when I found her to be a poor writer). Drowning, too, could in no way
achieve my goal, as I am an able swimmer. Even in the unlikely event that I succeeded, it would
prove more painful than hanging. The thought of throwing myself beneath a train evoked in me
more than anything that sense of aesthetic revulsion. Death by a pistol or a knife held the
potential for failure due to the trembling of my hands. Leaping from a building would no doubt
be unsightly. Based on these considerations, I settled upon death brought on by a drug. It is
possible that death by a drug may be more painful than hanging. However, aside from the fact
that I find it less abhorrent than hanging, it also holds the benefit that there is no danger of
resuscitation. There only remained the issue that procuring such a drug would be, needless to say, no simple task for me. I set myself upon suicide, and resolved to use every means at my disposal to acquire the drug. At the same time, I tried to gain what knowledge I could have of toxicology.

My thoughts then turned to where I would take my life. My family would have to rely on my
inheritance after my death: a meagre property that would amount to only one hundred tsubo of land, my house, the rights to my work, and my savings of two thousand yen. I was anxious about my house becoming unmarketable because of my suicide, and accordingly felt a sense of envy towards the bourgeois who had even a single country house. You might find my saying such a thing quite ridiculous. But when thinking of these matters, one in reality feels a deep sense of awkwardness. It is an unavoidable awkwardness. I wanted to make every effort to kill myself in such a way that no one outside my family would see my corpse.

Even after I had settled on the means, however, I found I still clung to life in some limited way.
Accordingly, I needed a springboard to propel me into death (I do not believe as the westerners do that suicide is a sin. In the Buddhist scriptures, the Buddha affirms the suicide of one of his disciples. Some who distort the truth to cater to public sentiment might say that this applies only in circumstances where such assent is "unavoidable." But seen from another perspective, these
"unavoidable" circumstances are not just the extreme cases where one would inevitably die a
more miserable death. Anyone who chooses to take their own life does so as a result of
circumstances which are, to them, "unavoidable." If anything, those who do it before that point
must have an abundance of courage). When all is said and done, it is typically a woman who fills the role of this springboard. Kleist, prior to taking his own life, solicited his friends to become his
companions. Racine also tried to cast himself into the river Seine together with Molière and
Boileau. Unfortunately, I have no such friends as these, so I merely tried to convince a woman
with whom I was acquainted to die by my side. This, however, turned out to be a proposal she
could not undertake for my sake, and I soon became confident that I could take my life without a
springboard. This did not come about from despair that no one wished to die with me; rather, I
was becoming increasingly sentimental, and even if my wife would be bereaved of me in death, I wanted to be considerate towards her. At the same time, I knew that killing myself would be
simpler without an accomplice. What's more, there was doubtlessly a convenience in being able to take my life at the time of my choosing.

My final device was to end my life in such a way that my family would not notice before the
deed was done. After several months of preparation, I attained a certain confidence that I would
be able to do so (I cannot write these details here for the sake of those people who care about me.
But even if I did write it here, it is certain that no charge as ludicrous as "aiding and abetting
suicide" would ever be created under our law. If this law were applied, how the number of
criminals would increase! Even if the pharmacies, gun shops, and razor sellers claimed that they
did not know, as long as our words and expressions betray our true intentions they would receive
some measure of suspicion. Besides, society and the law and such have themselves necessitated this aiding and abetting of suicide. In the end what kind hearts most of these criminals would have!). I carried out these preparations calmly, and now merely entertain myself with the thought of death. My mood before it is for the most part as Mainländer wrote.

We are human animals and thus fear death as animals do. The so-called "will to live" is nothing
more than a different name for animal instinct. I am but one of these human animals, and when I
observe my loss of interest in food and women, I realize I have gradually lost this animal instinct.
Now I reside in a world of diseased nerves, as translucent as ice. Last night I spoke with a
prostitute about her wages (!) and felt deeply the pathos of we humans who "live for the sake of
living." If we can submit ourselves to that eternal slumber, we can doubtlessly win ourselves
peace, if perhaps not happiness, but I had doubts as to when I would be brave enough to take my life. In this state, nature has only become more beautiful than ever to me. You love the beauty of
nature, and would no doubt scoff at my contradictions. But nature is beautiful precisely because it falls upon eyes that will not appreciate it for much longer. I have seen, loved, and understood more than others. This alone grants me some measure of solace in the midst of insurmountable sorrows. Please keep this letter from being made public for several years after my death. It is possible that I may take my life in a way that appears to be a natural death.

PS. Reading the life of Empedocles, I realized what an ancient desire it is to make oneself a god. As far as I can tell, this letter does not attempt that. No, I exist only as a mundane human being. Perhaps you recall twenty years ago when we discussed "Empedocles on Etna" under the linden trees. At that time, I was one who fancied himself a god."

- rough translation of Japanese writer Ryūnosuke Akutagawa's (1892-1927) supposed final work titled Note To An Old Friend. Fatal dose of barbital.

source

* Note to self , comb through his final works including The Life of a Stupid Man for more relevant quotes

 

[nembutal]

Lucas Helder manifesto

 

[27ClubSoon]

"Dearest,

I feel certain I am going mad again. I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I shan't recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can't concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don't think two people could have been happier till this terrible disease came. I can't fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can't even write this properly. I can't read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that — everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can't go on spoiling your life any longer.

I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been."

Virginia Woolf (1882-1941)
Suicide by Drowning

This is always so beautiful to read, it just flows with such grace

 

[nembutal]

"Why is it that a handful of thugs and plunderers can commit unthinkable atrocities (and in the case of the GM executives, for scores of years) and when it's time for their gravy train to crash under the weight of their gluttony and overwhelming stupidity, the force of the full federal government has no difficulty coming to their aid within days if not hours? Yet at the same time, the joke we call the American medical system, including the drug and insurance companies, are murdering tens of thousands of people a year and stealing from the corpses and victims they cripple, and this country's leaders don't see this as important as bailing out a few of their vile, rich cronies. Yet, the political "representatives" (thieves, liars, and self-serving scumbags is far more accurate) have endless time to sit around for year after year and debate the state of the "terrible health care problem". It's clear they see no crisis as long as the dead people don't get in the way of their corporate profits rolling in."

"Isn't it ironic how far we've come in 60 years in this country that they now know how to fix that little economic problem; they just steal from the middle class (who doesn't have any say in it, elections are a joke) to cover their asses and it's "business-as-usual". Now when the wealthy fuck up, the poor get to die for the mistakes... isn't that a clever, tidy solution."

"Sadly, though I spent my entire life trying to believe it wasn't so, but violence not only is the answer, it is the only answer. The cruel joke is that the really big chunks of shit at the top have known this all along and have been laughing, at and using this awareness against, fools like me all along."

-Joseph Stack, perpetuated the 2010 Austin suicide attack. Crashed his small plane into an office building, killing himself and 1 civilian.

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