#suicide

I don’t demand much. All I expect is for you to love me so much you kill yourself just to get my attention. 
 ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#attention #demand #expect #expectations #love

War had the effect of encouraging people to try to stay alive. Poverty, too. Survival was simply too hard-won to be given up lightly. ↗

— Aminatta Forna

#survival #war #love

U bezit zoveel verstand, zoveel kennis, zoveel talenten waar u plezier aan kunt beleven! Verman u toch! Geef het toch op, die treurige verknochtheid aan iemand die u er alleen maar om kan beklagen. ↗

— Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

#love

Suicide is a form of murder - premeditated murder. It isn't something you do the first time you think of doing it. It takes getting used to. And you need the means, the opportunity, the motive. A successful suicide demands good organization and a cool head, both of which are usually incompatible with the suicidal state of mind. ↗

— Susanna Kaysen

#motivational

I'm still kind of a mess. But I think we all are. No one's got it all together. I don't think you ever do get it totally together. Probably if you did manage to do it you'd spontaneously combust. I think that's a law of nature. If you ever manage to become perfect, you have to die instantly before you ruin things for everyone else. ↗

— Michael Thomas Ford

#suicide-notes #nature

Everything...affects everything ↗

— Jay Asher

#teen #ya #teen

Let them think what they liked, but I didn't mean to drown myself. I meant to swim till I sank -- but that's not the same thing. ↗

— Joseph Conrad

#suicide #story

The only difference between a suicide and a martyrdom really is the amount of press coverage. ↗

— Chuck Palahniuk

#suicide #different

Did you really want to die?" "No one commits suicide because they want to die." "Then why do they do it?" "Because they want to stop the pain. ↗

— Tiffanie DeBartolo

#pain #suicide #die

LADY LAZARUS I have done it again. One year in every ten I manage it-- A sort of walking miracle, my skin Bright as a Nazi lampshade, My right foot A paperweight, My face a featureless, fine Jew linen. Peel off the napkin O my enemy. Do I terrify?-- The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth? The sour breath Will vanish in a day. Soon, soon the flesh The grave cave ate will be At home on me And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty. And like the cat I have nine times to die. This is Number Three. What a trash To annihilate each decade. What a million filaments. The peanut-crunching crowd Shoves in to see Them unwrap me hand and foot-- The big strip tease. Gentlemen, ladies These are my hands My knees. I may be skin and bone, Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman. The first time it happened I was ten. It was an accident. The second time I meant To last it out and not come back at all. I rocked shut As a seashell. They had to call and call And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls. Dying Is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I've a call. It's easy enough to do it in a cell. It's easy enough to do it and stay put. It's the theatrical Comeback in broad day To the same place, the same face, the same brute Amused shout: 'A miracle!' That knocks me out. There is a charge For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge For the hearing of my heart-- It really goes. And there is a charge, a very large charge For a word or a touch Or a bit of blood Or a piece of my hair or my clothes. So, so, Herr Doktor. So, Herr Enemy. I am your opus, I am your valuable, The pure gold baby That melts to a shriek. I turn and burn. Do not think I underestimate your great concern. Ash, ash-- You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there-- A cake of soap, A wedding ring, A gold filling. Herr God, Herr Lucifer Beware Beware. Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air. ↗

— Sylvia Plath

#depression #poetry #suicide #art