Siamese Believe
Member
- Dec 8, 2025
- 41
I see my suicide as an act of rebellion. By killing myself, I am denouncing and destroying this life I was given by my parents.
Their irresponsible, uncontrolled lust lead to my prolonged suffering. I am rejecting a life of loneliness and living as an ugly, low IQ, short autistic male.
They were indifferent to the possible suffering they could've created by having unprotected sex as teenage, unemployed high school drop outs with bad genes. These are the conversations people don't have.
They put me in this disgusting, absolutely gross body. They damned me to a life of loneliness, ostracism, poverty, mockery, humiliation, and eternal rejection from women.
I will always be hungering for something I can never achieve because I wasn't born with the means. I'll never have that nice house in the suburbs with a girlfriend that adores me and only me. I'll never have a successful career in my passions like zoology, ornithology, entomology, marine biology, etc. I'll never be a loved and renowned researcher because I don't have the IQ, looks, and charm required.
These are my moments where I feel less guilty, it isn't indicative of my entire feelings. And I do not hate my parents at all. But I hold them responsible for giving me life. And the rage runs deep. So much I can never experience because of how I am. It's like having a mouth and being unable to drink water.
The one action that brought me here, is a pleasure that I will never be able to experience for myself, love. These are the moments where dying violently sounds easy.
If I am to be forced into this existence and I cannot live the life I desired, then I will have death. One way or the other.
I'm considering touching on some of this in a suicide note, but I'm unsure yet if I will go with a long note. Or keep it short, asking my parents to bury me with my favorite blanket.
Why even waste the words, I've tried to get them to understand things from my perspective for years. To no avail. When I die they'll just blame me instead for why things turned out this way.
Their irresponsible, uncontrolled lust lead to my prolonged suffering. I am rejecting a life of loneliness and living as an ugly, low IQ, short autistic male.
They were indifferent to the possible suffering they could've created by having unprotected sex as teenage, unemployed high school drop outs with bad genes. These are the conversations people don't have.
They put me in this disgusting, absolutely gross body. They damned me to a life of loneliness, ostracism, poverty, mockery, humiliation, and eternal rejection from women.
I will always be hungering for something I can never achieve because I wasn't born with the means. I'll never have that nice house in the suburbs with a girlfriend that adores me and only me. I'll never have a successful career in my passions like zoology, ornithology, entomology, marine biology, etc. I'll never be a loved and renowned researcher because I don't have the IQ, looks, and charm required.
These are my moments where I feel less guilty, it isn't indicative of my entire feelings. And I do not hate my parents at all. But I hold them responsible for giving me life. And the rage runs deep. So much I can never experience because of how I am. It's like having a mouth and being unable to drink water.
The one action that brought me here, is a pleasure that I will never be able to experience for myself, love. These are the moments where dying violently sounds easy.
If I am to be forced into this existence and I cannot live the life I desired, then I will have death. One way or the other.
I'm considering touching on some of this in a suicide note, but I'm unsure yet if I will go with a long note. Or keep it short, asking my parents to bury me with my favorite blanket.
Why even waste the words, I've tried to get them to understand things from my perspective for years. To no avail. When I die they'll just blame me instead for why things turned out this way.