Razors pain you;

Rivers are damp;

Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp;
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.
Every 18 minutes someone in the United States kills himself. A few are
younger than ten years old; others over ninety. Between seven-and-a-half and
sixteen percent take more than a day to die. An estimated 300,000 to 600,000
survive suicide attempts, but suffer varying degrees of injury. Nineteen
thousand are permanently disabled each year.
Estimates vary, but only about one in ten or twenty suicide attempts is fatal.
Given the easy availability of highly lethal methods, it seems that most
suicide attempters don't want to die.
The future is just old age and illness and pain ... I must
have peace and this is the only way.
I may look human from the outside, but my inside is empty,
stupid, dull-witted, and self-isolating. What on earth is in me. I
may be breathing, thanks to the support of parents and other
people around me, but my real self is like a lifeless doll.
To die, to sleep! To sleep, perchance to dream.
I am worthless. I am of no use to anyone, and no one is of
any use to me. What good to kill myself? How can you kill
nothing? A person who has committed suicide has had at
least something to end. He must know joy to know misery. I
have known nothing. Why live? Why die? One is an equal
choice to the other. ... It takes tolerance not to give in to
death.
I don’t need a reason to kill myself—I need a reason not to.
Dying is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.
~~
Sami