I pull the blade across my skin. How much longer 'till these voices win?

I wonder how deep I will get
Until I'm another person they will forget.
Up in my room more alone than ever
I just wish I was gone forever.


Worst Christmas Ever...

Now already. Somebody please kill me or I'll do it, quite soon.
All these people are driving me crazy. Mum knows exactly that I'm not doing well at the moment and she is making such a big thing about Christmas anyways, being in a fight with my loved granny is one of them.
I just can't stand these people, this world anymore.
They are slowly killing me, supporting my inner demon.


Can't turn back now, I'm haunted.

It's getting dark, and it's all too quiet
And I can't trust anything now.

Blurry mind, blurry soul, blurry body. 


Drop dead, gorgeous.



Suicide is a form of murder - premeditated murder. It isn't something you do the first time you think of doing it. It takes some 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.
It's important to cultivate detachment. One way to do this is to practice imagining yourself dead, or in the process of dying. If there's a window, you must imagine your body falling out the window. If there's a knife, you must imagine the knife piercing your skin. It there's a train coming, you must imagine your torso flattened under its wheels. There exercises are necessary to achieve the proper distance.

The motive is paramount. Without a strong motive, you're sunk.