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My Last RideI've looked forward to this day since the ride opened. I've always loved roller coasters, but I'm afraid of heights, so I never went on the ones with loops. I slowly started riding bigger coasters and... well, when this opened, I knew it was time.
It's the biggest roller coaster in the world, and this is the only park it's been built at. I had to travel from the United States to the United Kingdom, and it took all my life savings, but... I won't be needing that money anymore. I told myself I'd ride this coaster without second thought, no matter what the cost.
It's not for everybody. In fact, many are horrified by it. Hell, when I saw the scale model of it, my heart leapt into my throat and was struck by excitement and fear. I never thought it'd be built in my lifetime... it's time to face many things; my fear of heights, my fear of loops, and most of all... it's time to face death.
The Euthanasia Coaster begins with a 1600 top, and the ride up is extremely steep. It's so steep, you'd f
A Best FriendA good friend will be there for you when you cry.
A best friend will be there crying with you.
A good friend will keep your secret if you murder someone.
A best friend will have been your accomplice.
A good friend will let you commit suicide.
A best friend will be holding your hand as they jump in front of a train with you.
A good friend will mourn for you if you die before them.
A best friend will follow you.
A good friend will be at your execution to say goodbye.
A best friend will be in a second electric chair right next to you.
A good friend will say it's not a good idea to throw that explosive into the powerplant that's destroying natural habitat.
A best friend will count down to three, giving you the signal to throw it.
A good friend will ignore the fact that you kidnapped someone to torture.
A best friend will provide the chloroform.
A good friend will yell at your ex for breaking up with you.
A best friend will murder them
UtopiaI could be executed for writing this. Hell, they'd probably throw me in prison just for catching me with a pen and paper. But I have to get this down... I know it's only a matter of time before they realize that I'm a free thinker... and then they'll make sure I never existed.
Ten years ago, the entire world changed. They had been building up to this point, and they were incredibly successful. I saw it comiand I tried my best to tell people that this isn't how we want to live. We don't want to be controlled... but they were already brainwashed.
The government showed their true colors. Libraries and theatres were torn down, artwork and historical artifacts were burned to ashes, and the world's most renowned musicians were gunned down like animals. Oh yea... the animals... you'd be lucky to even find a picture of one, let alone a real one.
Anyone caught with any sort of art, music, unorthodox clothing, stuffed animals, books, religious practice... anything that made someone individual...
The Suicide PhotographerI am a photographer.
People hate my work. You may ask why, but when you see my shots, you'll understand. My work is very controversial. I am sadly proud of my photos, for I may be the only one who's adopted this style.
I capture photos of suicide.
No matter where I go, I carry my camera with me, ready to shoot anything that may happen. There's surprisingly a lot of suicides in this city and the next city over. I've gotten beautiful shots.
The most common ones are those of people jumping from buildings. Of course, there's usually a crowd of people pleading for the person to come down, so I know right away what I am about to get. I stand to get a good perspective, hold up my camera, and snap the photo right as the person plunges to their demise. I take a couple one after the other so I make sure to get the perfect shot. People surrounding me shout at me and call me heartless.
On the contrary, I am more caring than them. That person wanted to end their life, so they had a perfect reason t
My Best Friend is a GhostIt was a dare, and I took it. You know how people get when being pressured by their friends, being clucked at like a chicken and calling you a scaredy cat. Well, they were my friends... yup, friends.
It was an old broken down mine shaft. Cliche, I know. It had caved in during a mine blast that went wrong, and many miners were injured. Luckily, no one died... that is, until a young girl was curious enough to explore the ruins. The mine was, and still is, unstable.
The girl's name was Aida, but her last name was never released for unknown reasons. She was ten when she crawled in to look around, hoping to find some little treasures to take home. She was very adventurous. Unfortunately, part of the ceiling fell down and crushed her to death. She wasn't found until a week later when they discovered her footsteps in the mud leading to the mine. Her body was carefully recovered, and there was a closed casket funeral.
Well, years later, stories were made and rumors were spread that Aida still
Hell is HeavenI died a week ago. My house caught on fire due to a gas leak, and I unfortunately didn't make it. My family is devastated, but they're always praying to God that I'm happy. Well, they've got it half right.
I don't know what Heaven is like because... well, I didn't end up there. Frankly, everything is a sin, so in retrospect, only babies who meet their early end go to Heaven cause they didn't get a chance to sin. But you know, I've cursed, I've had premaridal sex, I've masturbated, I've lied, and I've... well, stolen from my mom's purse. So... here I am. In Hell.
I'm not sorry though. Turns out, our idea of Hell was all wrong. It's not firey, souls aren't being tortured for all eternity... and don't get me started on Satan. He's the most chill dude I've ever met. And boy is he attractive. He's tall, thin, has black hair slicked back into a small ponytail, and he wears a simple black t-shirt with scarlet skinny jeans! He even wears freakin' Airwalks!
Oho man, Hell has got to be th
Jacky's LetterTo the parents and family of Madeline,
My name is Jacky Stiles, and as you have probably guessed, I've killed Maddy. The reason I'm writing this, however, is because I want you to know the truth of what happened that day.
As you know, Maddy was a very happy, carefree girl. In the hours I spent with her, I learned that very quickly. She was friendly, funny, and overall just a great girl. She was just a little scared of me, but otherwise, she spoke to me as if we were just having a normal conversation.
Even after I hurt her the first couple of times, it didn't seem to bother her. I'll admit it frustrated and angered me, and I also found it a little intimidating. She smiled and was so carefree and honest. She never once cried from fear.
But I'm not writing this to tell you what I did to her, I'm writing this because she'd want you to know. She died happy. When I asked her why she was so carefree and unafraid, she said it was because nothing could be done. She knew she couldn't get away, a
DermatillomaniaI want to be perfect. I just want to be perfect. But so much is getting in my way... I hate my ugly body. This horrible skin with all of its imperfections. It's driving me mad.
I look in the mirror and see a blemish on my cheek. It's not quite ready to go yet, but I feel it! I feel it! It's there, and I don't want it to be. I want it gone.
I push at it, trying to get the defect out, but it won't surface. All I managed to accomplish was two deep nail marks in my face. I get frustrated and I scratch at it, trying to get the skin off to open the pore. It bleeds a little bit. I try squeezing again, but nothing. The nail marks break the skin slightly.
I grab a sewing needle. They say not to do this, but I'm desperate. I try to gently tear open the blemish. I really don't want to scar my face, so I have to be careful. But even after that, it won't come out! I scratch vigorously at it until there's a large, bleeding scrape on my cheek. I don't pay much attention to that, for I see the
I am a labelI slid the blade across my wrist
Again and again.
Maybe I’m an emotional freak.
I cause fights and arguments
Maybe I’m a troublemaker.
I use make up to make myself seem
Maybe I’m girly.
I complain about things
Even when sometimes
Maybe I’m an attention seeker.
I fall under so many
So maybe I am a label.
I’m just me.
Does Death Hurt?Does death hurt?
When the knife digs into flesh
do you fall into your knees in pain
or simply in shock of motion?
When you slip away in the dark of sleep
does the dream still remain
as you travel to worlds unknown?
When the drugs hit your body
does your heart stop suddenly
or can you feel the imminent end?
When the noose slips tight
does your head feel heavy
and your limbs feel numb?
When the water rushes in
to the castle only of air
can you feel your breath cut off?
When the dirt piles over
and the air runs out
can you feel the choking?
So riddle me this,
oh master of death,
does it hurt to die?
You'll Never Understand...You'll never understand...
But I'm glad you don't.
Because that would mean
You'd have to go through my pain.
And I'd never wish that
Check The MeaningIn barely legible handwriting
Scribbled on to the medicine bottle label
Is my name Grayson Oliver Dowd
And two letters printed in ink of bold sable
In haste I didn't check the meaning
It makes sense now that O.D. stands for Once Daily
But I took it to mean Over Dose
Oh how my rational mind once again fails me
Soon after I see the weathered words
Inscripted deeply on to the granite gravestone
Here lies Grayson Oliver Dowd
With an epiphanic epitaph ‘he died alone’
Waking from my sleep I check the meaning
I realise R.I.P. stands for Rest In Peace
And not Recovery Is Possible
So my dose of dopamine I shall decrease
In barely legible handwriting
Scribbled onto the medicine bottle label
Is my name Grayson Oliver Dowd
And two letters printed in ink of bold sable
My shaking hand struggles with the child lock
Let me flush these pills away and out of sight
Oh Dear reads the letters on the label
It appears that you
I wanna..I wanna cut myself, but I don't
I wanna scream, but I don't
I wanna run, but I don't
I wanna lose it all, but I don't
I wanna walk away, but I stay
I wanna start over, but I stay
I wanna disappear, but I stay
I wanna hide, but I stay
I wanna cry, but I can't
I wanna fly, but I can't
I wanna fight, but I can't
I wanna take revenge, but I can't
I wanna be who I am
I wanna live my life right
I wanna be loved
Isn't that alright?
Here I stand
Don't know what to do
I feel so lonely
I love you
I miss you
I wanna hug you
I wanna kiss you
Know that I'm thinking of you
Know that I'm waiting for you
I would give the world to be with you
Maybe fighting for acception.
Rather, suffering rejection...
Maybe breaking for direction...
Perhaps dying for correction...
Maybe hurting for affection..
So maybe before you label someone just because you don't feel a connection...
Maybe fix yourself before you point out imperfections.
Full ResolveThe weirdest thing happened to me yesterday.
So I decided to kill myself, right? At the train tracks. Just throw myself headfirst into a fucking train, fully resolved and ready to meet my maker. Well that was the plan, anyway. And it seemed like a pretty good one since I'd deemed myself insignificant to this apathetic world. But then on the way there I saw this old homeless guy sitting on the side of the street in shaggy clothes, leaning against the side of a pawnshop, and I asked him his name. "Mike," he said. He looked at me like I was crazy. I get why. Who in their right mind talks to homeless folks? I asked him if he liked cheeseburgers and he said yes, so I went inside this fast food restaurant across the street and bought a cheeseburger with the money I stole from my mom and was going to buy my last meal with. I brought it out to him and he started thanking me over and over again like I was some Catholic saint or Jesus himself and I just said “you’re welcome” an
Remember when I Died?Remember when I died? No, probably not. As you stood there laughing in my face, pushing and shoving me, telling me everything that was wrong with me... I fell. I fell hard. I've fallen before, but when I fall that hard...
And I wasn't me anymore.
Breaking down and crying, your laughter increased, and you called upon others to join you. It's fun to see someone cry, fun to see their world being torn apart, fun to have nothing more to live fo--
Where did that knife come from? Was I carrying it around with me? Did you have it? Who knows... I don't remember. But it's on you. My blood is on your hands.
But you're happy now. You're happy I'm gone. You're all happy I'm gone. I'm just sad I didn't get a chance to write my suicide letter. Hmm, you'd probably laugh at that too. Cause I'm so funny. Cause my pain is so funny. Cause my death is so funny.
What about my friend? Are they sad I'm gone? Course not. No one can be trusted. Everyone will betray their most loyal friends. People I barely know
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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