How Not To Kill Yourself Novels & Stories

Damien had made it clear he wasn’t above killing people who annoyed him. I panicked. If I was going to die, I wanted it to be on my own terms, not his. So, I tiptoed back, waiting for them to leave, before sneaking into the medicine cabinet, and grabbed a pill. Just one pill they had said, but I knew that wouldn't do. I thought it’d be faster to take an extra dose. I thought...well, I didn’t think much beyond “kill yourself before Damien does.” But apparently, I couldn’t even do that right.

“You’re not doing the version where you protect me by disappearing for two weeks.” “No.” “And you’re not doing the version where I become the reason you lose your entire campus life without talking it through.” “Also no.” Kane exhaled. “Then we use the hours before evening. Practical options. Risk map. No romantic suicide runs, no surrender dressed as maturity.”

I stop recording. I take a piece of paper from my pocket and type Becca’s number into the phone. I attach the video. This is it. I’ll send the video, go back to my cell, and tomorrow when I’m released, I’ll kill myself. I’ve been thinking about the best way for a while. I tried hanging myself in my cell, but the makeshift rope was shit and it failed. I’m going to jump off one of those bridges that let people cross over motorways.

He doesn't even know me yet he is trying to stop me from jumping off this bridge. "I might not know you, but what I do know is that there is another way out of all problems than trying to kill yourself." He said and that's when I realized that I had been thinking out loud. I took in deep breath before speaking up. "You are wrong, this is the only way out of my problems, and it's the best way. By jumping off this bridge and taking my life, I would be out of everybody's way." I said as I felt tears starting to roll down my cheeks.

“Talk...fast.” “I... I don’t know if I should talk about this with you, but,” “Then do not. If you’re looking for someone to give you comfort, I will not.” “You’ve given me enough comfort.” The distance between my brows lessens as I sheepishly raise my gaze at her. “I just...it’s all too much coming from different junctions, different people. Everyone in here is disgusted, and I have come to the conclusion that it gives the brothers some pathetic and psychopathical delight. I want to kill myself, but witches aren’t allowed to kill themselves. It’s taboo. There’s a chance that if I do, I won’t be reconnected with my family and be returned to the earth, and much worse, no one would bury me int

I couldn't live with myself. People say suicide is selfish. Please don't think that it is. Because it really isn't. I've fought so much I've decided to give up. This isn't just for me. It's for everyone. It's better this way. Please don't mourn me. It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault. Don't cry over me. Don't go into a depressive state, either. Just be happy. I'll always be in your heart. That's understandable. But I can't be the only thing you think about.

I would rather not be around her. It was then I realized how easy it would be for her to kill me. If she asked me to kill myself, I would find every possible means to kill myself. I couldn't let that happen. I had to find a way around it.

I needed it or I'm gonna die of depression before dawn. The next twenty minutes, I stared at Nick's back and imagined all the easiest ways I can kill him without anyone noticing. Poison his food, goddamnit, nobody cooks in this house. Hire a gangster to shoot him or a planned accident. Which ever way I just want him out of this planet. For good.

“Six pills of Oxy and half a bottle of vodka? And you still tried to throw yourself off a bridge? What the hell is going through your head right now?” “I just want to die,” I whispered, voicing it for the first time ever. “There’s no point in living anymore.” “There’s never a point to living,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you should try to kill yourself. It’s not worth it. And with everything you’ve done? You would have killed yourself a dozen times over.”

I hate it all. More than once I've wondered what would happen if I hurt myself. Would the world be better if I weren't here? I've researched it. It wouldn't be hard. A few too many of the pills mom likes to keep in her bedroom, maybe the gun this fucker keeps under his pillow, or throwing myself in front of traffic. I've thought of all the ways I can make myself disappear, but every time I try, I cry. I cry because I feel like there's something else out there for me. What? I don't know, but I have to believe I wasn't born for this.