Personal Narrative On Accepted Suicide

"Everyone dies, some faster than others, some willingly and others not, but we all die. We all learn that. But it's the fact that you accept it or not. The fact that you take death in with open arms, or run away fearing for your life. I had open arms welcoming death but not now, I have to live for him, he was the one thing I would live for. I was so naive thinking it would last forever. I was stupid thinking that letting someone in would be a good thing for me. When I know everything comes with a price, everything gets too old some day, too broken, too beaten, too unwanted. But it felt so good, so wrong, but so right. I was blinded of what was right in front of me. I killed him. It was my fault

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

It happened so fast. When you die, there's no silent moment of clarity, where your life flashes before your eyes. No one sits down next to you and swaddles your head with their arms in their lap. You simply just bleed out, lying there in pain unnoticed. You're probably asking me in your head, well how did you, Clara? Well, actually I didn't. I'm more like 'a survivor'.

The current suicide rate among 15- to 24-year olds is quite disturbing. Growing in numbers since 2007, the latest toll taken in 2013 on suicide within college settings is 11.1 deaths per 100,000 people (Scelfo, 2015). According to the article Suicide on Campus and the Pressure of Perfection, Pennsylvania State University had six students commit suicide in a 13-month stretch (Scelfo, 2015). Suicide within college settings are usually linked with severe depression. As mentioned by Kevin Breel in the Confessions of a Depressed Comic Ted Talk, depression is not sadness, real depression is being sad when everything in your life is going right and this, this I can personally relate to.

My father had his talk with the principle the day after I was attacked, and no one said a word why the man needed emergency surgery and was in critical condition. Mrs. Steiner stopped by the house to see if there was some way they could come to an… She didn’t have a chance when my mother back handed her and started smacking her around real good. My father and Dale needed help to get her hands from around Mrs. Steiner’s throat and was happy for the help. The woman was as slippery as they come and was nothing but an older version of Mildred. The people who had helped get my mother’s hands from around her throat were police officers. Mrs. Steiner was now yelling that she was attacked and my mother should go to jail where she belongs.

Place yourself in my shoes 5 years ago. Staring at the wall, twiddling your thumbs, thinking “god, there must be something I can do…” Your mind wanders to dark places when left in a room with just thoughts. The monsters you buried, shoved down, tucked away...slowly claw to the surface. Each word they throw hits you like a dagger. They blare in your mind and echo in the empty. They consume you, at ease, you hadn’t a fight left to put up. Now the tone changes. Their whispers circle you like ribbons of smoke, gentle coos. They dribble in like sweet honey… only, this honey is laced with cyanide. They promise escape. They lure you in, and suddenly the weights on your chest are lifted. How come you never thought of this? If you can’t get rid of the pain, get rid of yourself. Wave your white flag, admit defeat. You start planning, all of the resources are at your fingertips “Painless ways to kill yourself” You eagerly type in. The number for the suicide hotline is your first result, you scroll past it. Euphoria. STOP. How did you get here…? “Help is out there.” “You’re not alone.” I got help aka A pile

This past fall my grandpa was with my grandma at the Super 8 motel. He was sitting outside on a bench and all of a sudden he passed out. No one was out there when he got dizzy and passed out. They do not know how long he was out there. My grandma walked out there and saw he was passed out on the ground so then she called an ambulance.

“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,

The nurse and I were in a little room in the ER of a big small town hospital. I was at the hospital because I tried to kill myself and we were waiting in this room until I was mentally stable enough be transferred to Peel Children’s Centre. The nurse was supposed to be preparing me for the transfer, but really that just meant going through my belongings and asking me accusatory questions.

I’m not going to begin this story with absurdity, instead I am going to relive a year that went by so freaking fast that I nearly forgot half of it, but what I do remember has left me with a little knowledge and a lot of pain that will last a lifetime. This year is the year the suicides began. First, before I make any person feel a little tearful or for the tough guys only tearful in the inside and never on the outside, let’s go back to the year before; as a freshman.

Chris awoke early and had a cigarette whilst talking with his girlfriend this morning. His father later came to see him in the morning and gave him a hand to do his laundry however Chris got upset with his father and was feeling in a low mood. He came to chat to me for a while and engaged well explaining that he didn’t know why he felt the way that did. He at one point said that he felt suicidal however it was a thought and not something that he would take immediate action on. I managed to change Chris’s mood by making light humour of things and said that if he was still feeling like that to inform staff or let his father know. I explained that this would be something that he could discuss tomorrow at his review. Chris therefore apologised

By the age of seven, I became used to the smell of tequila off my father’s breathe, which then usually coincided with his absence for the next few days. It was a regular for my father to be home one day, and gone for the next two weeks. I considered it beneficial when he was gone, as the house was less chaotic and it was easier to do my homework. I didn’t want my father around; his presence was dangerous. While on a bender, my father had stolen my entire college fund that I had been saving up so he could use it as drug money, brutally beat my mother, totaled his car, and accused me of stealing his car keys. I was about eight during the time of most of these occurrences. Eventually, I had considered his addiction an aspect of my childhood.

‘Call the ambulance’ I said to myself. The red car disappeared from the view as I looked for help. As I tried unlocking the seat belt, I realized I was bleeding and my head was hurting really badly. Helplessly, I bent forward and checked Trevor’s pulse. My immobile left hand lay dead on the side as I reached for my phone, Speed dialling the number as I called the ambulance to the location.

Since this was the first day after a three day weekend, which cancelled one of our class sessions, we started the class with a review of the last week and how the course would work out. Also, to make the roll call a little more fun, we had to say what kind of food we would bring to a deserted island. For me, I said I would bring my mother’s own version of a “Frikandelle” which is a shredded turkey patty and no one apparently knew what I was talking about. Everyone mostly chose common recipes like pizza and burgers but, after having those things daily for the last three months (excluding winter break), I know I would be better off with something closer to home. After that, we did our daily exercise of rolling our bodies to our hips and lifting our arms to stretch our body.

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.