Personal Narrative On Suicides

Despite what other arguments might think, I believe the description in this book was exceptional, in how it hooked me right in. for example, in the text, the way the author effectively describes the way the guardian stabbed Andy, and the blood flowing from the wound. for example in the text it states,`` The knife entered just below his rib cage and had been drawn across his body violently, tearing a wide gap in his flesh. He lay on the side-walk with the March rain drilling his jacket and drilling his body and washing away the blood that poured from his open wound. He had known excruciating pain when the knife had torn across his body, and then sudden comparative relief when the blade was pulled away.`` when I read this I pictured Andy being

I somehow knew what my aunt would say to me when I answered the ringing phone in my hand. There was an unexplainable, sickening feeling in my abdomen that told me something was wrong. Hesitating, I frantically tried to think of what else it could be before finally clicking “answer.” The cold surface of my phone pressed up to my ear, and my aunt spoke words that I will never forget.

"Did the hit you received yesterday knock out all of your brain cells?" She snaps, "You don't give patients false hope, not when it's a bad case like that."

“My ex-girlfriend was taken away by the cop and taken to the local jail. My ex-girlfriend’s Dad showed up and I rode back with him to their house. Finally my parents came and picked me up. I went home and maybe got two hours of sleep, if you even call that sleep. The next morning, I went back to my ex-girlfriend’s house and she was later released from jail that day. For the longest time, we would just sit there in silence, because, what do you say? It was time to comfort one another. I not only felt bad about the whole situation, but I knew no one was going to believe me, us. Believe that a girl purposively jumped into the moving vehicle. I later learned that the girl who died had been suicidal. Earlier that day, before the accident,

At her words he started, she had come up behind him munching on a funnel cake of all things. As she walked up to him the realization hit him, it was her. The waitress from the diner. He couldn't believe it was her, the nagging idea of it, the things she said, it had to be. In the flesh there was no doubt. Most times he heard of people doing this sort of thing, suicide, assisted suicide, it was because they were sick. Something terminal and they wanted to handle it on their own terms. Molly, yes, that was her name, she did not look sick. Still, you never knew what was really going on inside someone, sometimes the eyes would tell you, but not always.

Staring at the enclosed tennis backboard of the graffitied wall, it was my third consecutive morning there and i still didn't know what to make of it. “Hello, Brenda are you there?”, said my friend Miller as he abruptly strike me back to reality, “here its your turn, take a hit. And remember this time hold it in”. I've always felt i had an inner mystical esoteric view on life, suppressed by naive realism. I wanted to answer the great philosophical questions. So i tried marijuana.

Thank you Max, for sitting down with me for this interview, I know it’s a hard subject but if you don’t mind can you tell me a little background from the suicide of Katrina? Yes detective, but it dates a long time back, back to this little barn. Katrina and her brother would always go out to the barn and play. Katrina’s father would always tell her to not go out to the barn and play and he would tell her brother the same thing. They never listened though. They were having so much fun until one day. I was a neighbor to Katrina for a while, she asked me to come play the day an accident occurred in the barn. I was just in the corner watching her climb this unsturdy ladder, it would crack going all the way up. She got almost to the very top

Some years ago, when all my children were very young, I attempted suicide. As I lay in intensive care wanting to just die and wondering why I did not my mother visited me and told me that if I kill myself that is the only sin that God cannot forgive me for. Still not convinced I received another visit from my son who had to be about 9 years old at the time. When I looked into his eyes; I knew that I had to live. It was as if he was saying to me at that time that if you have given up I have no reason to live either. Having decided now to live I wanted to give my children the best life I possibly could which was not easy. I was a mother of 5 with a husband who was not supportive and who was very abusive. By this time though my mind was made up that me and and my

It's been over two weeks and Evan is still not sure what he's gotten himself into and the only one to blame is himself and his wired therapy letters. So now where is he? Oh yeah, pretending to be Connor Murphy's best friend because his parents thought he wrote a suicide note to Evan. And of course, he just went with it. Told the Murphy's all about his great friendship with their son who was surely going to kill him once he woke up. Evan would love it if the ground could just open up and swallow him whole. His phone ringing interrupts his daydream about no longer existing. Evan pulls his phone out of his pocket and blanches when he sees it's Mrs. Murphy.

Boom! I shook, cowering in fear under my bed as missiles whistled through the smoky air. Before heading out to school, I had been reviewing for my math midterm. I was in the midst of solving my Algebra problems, the midst of solving x. My whole world turned to a math problem. I closed my eyes and plunged into a surreal world. All I thought about is math. I was hungry to learn, and to tease my brain. Boom! My room’s window was shattered as shots were continuously fired. My eyes say a brilliant light from afar. I hugged my book, sobbed, and prayed that someone, anyone would rescue me. As I sat waiting in terror to be rescued, the war cries and x amount bullet sounds were

One Friday, I came home from work as usual at 6pm, and sat down at my dining table. I had in front of me a glass of red wine, about a hundred pills, a blade, and some alcohol pads for disinfection. I was having a fight with my boyfriend over text, who was in Charlotte at that moment for business. Once he stopped replying, I sent him a text that read, “I am going to kill myself.” Within minutes, I heard someone bang on my door. It was the police. My boyfriend had called 911 to report my potential suicide. I had been mentioning suicide in our conversations for a few weeks, to be fair. Caught in the scene, I was brought to New York Presbyterian Psychiatric Emergency Room in an ambulance. “How much is this going to cost? Because I can’t afford

Morning came much too quickly, I barely managed a few hours of sleep. A beam of light shot straight into my vision, having penetrated the thin curtains. The droning of my alarm clock piercing my sub conscious. I would have to find a taxi to drive me to my workplace, so I left earlier than normal.

Last February, I wanted to commit suicide. Years of masking my depression had caught up to me, trapping me in an endless pit. Luckily, in a moment of panic, I decided to tell someone before ending my life.

Each day in the USA 5,240 young people, grades 7-12, attempt suicide, I was one of the lucky ones who survived.I started my 7th grade year in Arizona. We moved back so my mom could keep custody of my brother. I was 12 when we moved to Akron, Ohio. I was scared but excited to move somewhere knew.On my very first day of school I met some of my closest friends. I started getting bullied around my third week there. It started off small, just a few words here and there. Then the more I ignored it the bigger it got.I reported it a few times but all it did was make things worse. I started self harming when I was 11. It got worse as the bullying progressed. I went from cutting once a month to cutting 2+ times a day. My friends tried to help me stop but it didn’t do much. I would also not eat and when I did I would sometimes throw it up. Then the worst hit.

Someone, somewhere, commits suicide every 18 minutes. You might never be able to tell who it will be, it could be the person sitting right next . Statistics reveal that approximately three million youths, between 12-18, have either thought about or attempted suicide in the past year. More than 1/3, actually succeeded.