=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 1-900-SUICIDE ------------- I am dead. I am breathing, but I feel no life. I sit and ask myself all the questions I can never truthfully answer. "Why can't I just be happy?" "Why do people treat me so fucked up?" "Why do I feel like dieing?"... Truth is, I don't feel like dieing. I feel like living...happily. In peace. But since I can't, I want to end it. I will end it. I must. I looked at the razor blade sitting on top of my stereo. I stared at it as if I was obsessively in love with it and what it is capable of. I started crying, I threw the phone that was in my hand. It hit the wall so hard, one off the pieces flew back and hit my eye. That pissed me the fuck off. I looked at the blade again, and decided to do it. Cut. I grabbed the blade, and wiped it off...I looked at my wrist and scratched my wrist as hard as possible. It turned red. Bright red. I started to cut, I slowly cut about an inch long....no where near the vein. Then I realized I didn't want to die. I wanted a scar, a physical scar, to show for my emotional ones. I decided to cut again, this time I was closer to my vein, I looked at the blood come out. I felt good. I felt like I was invincible. The phone rang. My ex, telling me how I felt again. Why do people automatically assume just because THEY are ok, that I must be too. He keeps telling me I am ok, that I don't want to die. That I won't. That he will stop me. It made me wanna do it more. I hung up...blade still in hand, and cut my other wrist again, right on my vein. I just watched the blood ooze out, it seemed so...so peaceful. I felt relieved. I licked my wrist, and tasted my blood. It was sweet. Sweetest thing I ever tasted. Kinda sick, huh? No. It was beautiful. That I felt so dead, yet so alive. I felt so much pain, yet so much warmth. I was listening to the SneakerPimps. Her voice hypnotized me. I felt like I wanted to be the beat, her voice caressing me. I decided that since I couldn't do that, I didn't want to do anything else. I went to my dresser, still bleeding, and reached for my trusty bottle of prozac. I took out 7 pills. All that was left. I took them all. I went to the bathroom, and took 4 or 5 codeine, I can't really remember, since I felt completely numb and dizzy. Next thing I remember doing is laying down on my cold floor. Completely intoxicated by the music. I woke up the next morning, feeling very very sick. I threw up about 5 times. I went back to my room, and looked at the floor. I saw blood all over, and a piece of paper right by it. I picked it up, and unfolded it. It said... "You did the right thing bitch, and if you wake up to see this, you failed once again. Next try! Sincerely, Your Mother!" WHAT THE FUCK!!! I am truly disturbed now. She has done it. She's lucky she's not here right now. (Keep in mind, this just happened) How could she say something so cruel to me? I know I get on her nerves, and sometimes she even feels like killing me,but damnnn!!! That's ok though. Because regardless of how bad it hurt to read that, I know she doesn't mean it. She is saying this because she knows I will live. She knows I have to. She's just bringing to my attention what a dumbass I make of myself when I do dumb shit like that. And it IS true. Point of this all; so many people inn my life have downed me for being "suicidal". They tell me I'm crazy, I'm exaggerating, blah blah blah. The thing is, most people who TALK about killing themselves, are the ones who are too fucking scared to actually go thru with it. They just want attention. They might feel like dieing, and in all actuality wish they were dead, but they won't do it. The ones who don't talk about, well they just don't. And sooner or later, that anger will eat them up, and they will go thru with it. But however, I have talked about it many times, telling people I was going to do it, and I really wanted to. I really tried. It just failed. And the more people tell me how I feel, or how things really are, makes me want to prove to them even more so, just how BAD it is. SO be careful.... -Sadia -GyrL WundeR =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = = Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = = "subscribe fuck". 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