(I got banned from Reddit for this exact post. Fucking morons.)
Don't let people stop you from taking your life. If you've come to the entirely rational and often maligned conclusion that you would, in fact, be better off dead, just go through with it. Plan it out, ask about methods, think about the lethality of what you're doing, and just fucking do it. It doesn't get any easier to cope with your *physical* reality after reading five comments from our local do-gooders underneath a painfully repetitive suicide note/final goodbye. Just make sure that this is what you really want to do. Painless methods exist, and I'm currently planning on using one of those when I feel I'm ready to go. But, there is no going back. Once the rope is around your neck, the gun is in your mouth, or that needle is in your arm, you have elected to die. Make sure that you're absolutely comfortable with that before you go and do something stupid and deadly. Make sure that you know for a fact that nothing will ever get better for you before you choose to end your life. Don't exaggerate or pity yourself. Just ask yourself this question: "Am I fixable?" If you are, then ending your life could very well be the stupidest decision you will ever make, because life is very enjoyable and worthwhile when the right people are around to love you, support you, and help you deal with struggles. Depression is fixable, anxiety is fixable, and mental issues are fixable - provided you have a support network. If not, don't even try. Just kill yourself, because I promise you that death is a better alternative to being where I am right now.
A bit of backstory so people know I'm not yet another stupid fucking troll - My parents disowned me, and were incredibly abusive to me growing up (both physically and emotionally). My brother was and is also autistic and very violent, to the extent that I've had to seriously hurt him a number of times. I am also a victim of emotional incest because my mom used to think I was her husband, and treated me as such (meaning that she'd rip me apart with her words and actions; and then she'd cuddle with me after she'd cried on my shoulder about how sorry she was for hurting me. The cuddling she would try to do with me and her mannerisms while in this state were almost romantic in their intent, and this is something that has hanuted me for a long time. This went on for a decade). As a result of the abuse and the trauma I have endured, I have PTSD, BPD (and codependence), severe depression, and severe anxiety (to the extent that I suffer with crippling stomach and bladder pain (along with constant and intense nausea) because of my inability to control my bowels or bladder - the urges are so strong and occur so often that I spend the majority of my day in the bathroom, every single day without fail. Doctors have confirmed that my anxiety is doing this to me through psychosomatic outlets, which just happen to be my gastric and urinary systems). I also have no friends, because my social skills forbid me from keeping any new friends around. It's weird, but somehow, I push everybody away. It's torturous to lack any degree of human connection, but it's something I've accepted.
My point is, I am not fixable. I've been suffering with my own issues for a number of years, and I've also been on multiple antidepressants (I'm currently on Lexapro with dismal results). I currently see a therapist (I've been through 2 already) and a psychiatrist (I've been through one who overprescribed me and sparked my new addictions to Adderall and Xanax), both of whom are having zero luck in helping me help myself. I've been through 6 attempts. I got caught on three of them (Two hangings, one attempt to order heroin to my front door - yes, that is a thing). On my fourth, I backed out of it. On my fifth, the belt broke and I was simply too lazy to redo my hanging apparatus. And, finally, on my sixth and most recent attempt, somebody prevented me from jumping in front of a train by physically restraining me as the train passed me by. I guess I made my intent to jump too obvious. Oh well. 7 is the perfect number, anyway.
There is something scratching at my insides. It is almost akin to a craving for death because of how powerful my urges currently are. I cross the street without looking, cross train tracks with reckless abandon on a regular basis, drink and smoke myself into absolute oblivion, and I cut my wrists just to get some degree of respite from my mental agony. My mind doesn't scream at me, but it guides me in the general direction of death all the time, and it brings me unbearable anguish to think about anything. Therefore, I recognize that I am simply incompatible with the human condition of existence, because I have lost every single shred of my humanity already. I just recognize that this is something I have to do, and I go from there.
Anyway, I hope this helped some of you form a final decision regarding your current ideations. Rest in peace, everyone.
Don't let people stop you from taking your life. If you've come to the entirely rational and often maligned conclusion that you would, in fact, be better off dead, just go through with it. Plan it out, ask about methods, think about the lethality of what you're doing, and just fucking do it. It doesn't get any easier to cope with your *physical* reality after reading five comments from our local do-gooders underneath a painfully repetitive suicide note/final goodbye. Just make sure that this is what you really want to do. Painless methods exist, and I'm currently planning on using one of those when I feel I'm ready to go. But, there is no going back. Once the rope is around your neck, the gun is in your mouth, or that needle is in your arm, you have elected to die. Make sure that you're absolutely comfortable with that before you go and do something stupid and deadly. Make sure that you know for a fact that nothing will ever get better for you before you choose to end your life. Don't exaggerate or pity yourself. Just ask yourself this question: "Am I fixable?" If you are, then ending your life could very well be the stupidest decision you will ever make, because life is very enjoyable and worthwhile when the right people are around to love you, support you, and help you deal with struggles. Depression is fixable, anxiety is fixable, and mental issues are fixable - provided you have a support network. If not, don't even try. Just kill yourself, because I promise you that death is a better alternative to being where I am right now.
A bit of backstory so people know I'm not yet another stupid fucking troll - My parents disowned me, and were incredibly abusive to me growing up (both physically and emotionally). My brother was and is also autistic and very violent, to the extent that I've had to seriously hurt him a number of times. I am also a victim of emotional incest because my mom used to think I was her husband, and treated me as such (meaning that she'd rip me apart with her words and actions; and then she'd cuddle with me after she'd cried on my shoulder about how sorry she was for hurting me. The cuddling she would try to do with me and her mannerisms while in this state were almost romantic in their intent, and this is something that has hanuted me for a long time. This went on for a decade). As a result of the abuse and the trauma I have endured, I have PTSD, BPD (and codependence), severe depression, and severe anxiety (to the extent that I suffer with crippling stomach and bladder pain (along with constant and intense nausea) because of my inability to control my bowels or bladder - the urges are so strong and occur so often that I spend the majority of my day in the bathroom, every single day without fail. Doctors have confirmed that my anxiety is doing this to me through psychosomatic outlets, which just happen to be my gastric and urinary systems). I also have no friends, because my social skills forbid me from keeping any new friends around. It's weird, but somehow, I push everybody away. It's torturous to lack any degree of human connection, but it's something I've accepted.
My point is, I am not fixable. I've been suffering with my own issues for a number of years, and I've also been on multiple antidepressants (I'm currently on Lexapro with dismal results). I currently see a therapist (I've been through 2 already) and a psychiatrist (I've been through one who overprescribed me and sparked my new addictions to Adderall and Xanax), both of whom are having zero luck in helping me help myself. I've been through 6 attempts. I got caught on three of them (Two hangings, one attempt to order heroin to my front door - yes, that is a thing). On my fourth, I backed out of it. On my fifth, the belt broke and I was simply too lazy to redo my hanging apparatus. And, finally, on my sixth and most recent attempt, somebody prevented me from jumping in front of a train by physically restraining me as the train passed me by. I guess I made my intent to jump too obvious. Oh well. 7 is the perfect number, anyway.
There is something scratching at my insides. It is almost akin to a craving for death because of how powerful my urges currently are. I cross the street without looking, cross train tracks with reckless abandon on a regular basis, drink and smoke myself into absolute oblivion, and I cut my wrists just to get some degree of respite from my mental agony. My mind doesn't scream at me, but it guides me in the general direction of death all the time, and it brings me unbearable anguish to think about anything. Therefore, I recognize that I am simply incompatible with the human condition of existence, because I have lost every single shred of my humanity already. I just recognize that this is something I have to do, and I go from there.
Anyway, I hope this helped some of you form a final decision regarding your current ideations. Rest in peace, everyone.
