Suicide
FireMane
Published
03/30/2011
I want you suicidals reading this to understand something before you go out. No one on Earth loves you. No one has even a passing interest in you. The more you feel pain and depression, the more I spurn you as I would spurn a rabid dog. You delight me to no end whenever you kill yourself. I love to hear it on the news, read about it, hear it from locals. When some nerdy, emo outcast gets all butthurt about being bullied or ignored, I pray for his or her death.
It's important that you understand that you have no friends. None. And not only that, but there's something going around quite different from a passive ignorance of your desperation: active enjoyment of it. I love it when someone blows out the back of his skull with a shotgun. I want more of that. And I want it to be you. Please please please please please please please please kill yourself in a painful manner, preferably so overwhelmingly agonizing that you're unable to finish the job, so I watch it, laugh at your predicament, and jerk off in the knowledge that another lonely fool has botched a bid for attention, and will go through life maimed, disfigured, and ever more depressed. You're already into cutting, right? Now go for castration. With a hammer. Or maybe a garlic press, but you might have to look that up to see what it is and how it works. Ladies, you can always gouge out your ovaries and squish those. Or just slice open your nipples and then your tits. You know, make a show of it.
If you wake up in the morning and find a reason to keep going on, I will be supremely disappointed. And when you kill yourself, and you already know that you will, you have to publicize. Film yourself and put it on YT. Now, it'll get taken down pretty quick, but someone will save it and it'll go viral, promise. I so rarely get a chance to use the word absolutely in the correct way, but here it is: I absolutely relish your pain and want you to become overwhelmed by it. No matter what happens on this planet, in your life or in mine, my desire for your death will not go away.
If you feel the need to somehow get revenge on me with your death, there is no possibility of doing so, because you'll never find me. You can shoot up your school, if you like. I mean if you want to make the news, and I definitely hope you do, so I can watch the final pathetic chapter of your forgetful, nutless life. Now, you may think that killing yourself privately will get revenge on me, since I won't be able to enjoy the news, but you'd be wrong, because the fact that you kill yourselves once every 30 seconds somewhere on Earth is all I need to dance with elation. You make me happy. You can make me happier by killing yourselves. Do so.
And if my words here are what finally break the camel's back, I want credit in your video, so the whole world comes and reads this, and then more suicidals follow suit. I want you to suffer more than anyone has ever suffered in history, and that's quite a lot. Think about that, despair, and thrill me at your expense.
Fuck you. Eat shit. I'm glad you're in pain.
It's important that you understand that you have no friends. None. And not only that, but there's something going around quite different from a passive ignorance of your desperation: active enjoyment of it. I love it when someone blows out the back of his skull with a shotgun. I want more of that. And I want it to be you. Please please please please please please please please kill yourself in a painful manner, preferably so overwhelmingly agonizing that you're unable to finish the job, so I watch it, laugh at your predicament, and jerk off in the knowledge that another lonely fool has botched a bid for attention, and will go through life maimed, disfigured, and ever more depressed. You're already into cutting, right? Now go for castration. With a hammer. Or maybe a garlic press, but you might have to look that up to see what it is and how it works. Ladies, you can always gouge out your ovaries and squish those. Or just slice open your nipples and then your tits. You know, make a show of it.
If you wake up in the morning and find a reason to keep going on, I will be supremely disappointed. And when you kill yourself, and you already know that you will, you have to publicize. Film yourself and put it on YT. Now, it'll get taken down pretty quick, but someone will save it and it'll go viral, promise. I so rarely get a chance to use the word absolutely in the correct way, but here it is: I absolutely relish your pain and want you to become overwhelmed by it. No matter what happens on this planet, in your life or in mine, my desire for your death will not go away.
If you feel the need to somehow get revenge on me with your death, there is no possibility of doing so, because you'll never find me. You can shoot up your school, if you like. I mean if you want to make the news, and I definitely hope you do, so I can watch the final pathetic chapter of your forgetful, nutless life. Now, you may think that killing yourself privately will get revenge on me, since I won't be able to enjoy the news, but you'd be wrong, because the fact that you kill yourselves once every 30 seconds somewhere on Earth is all I need to dance with elation. You make me happy. You can make me happier by killing yourselves. Do so.
And if my words here are what finally break the camel's back, I want credit in your video, so the whole world comes and reads this, and then more suicidals follow suit. I want you to suffer more than anyone has ever suffered in history, and that's quite a lot. Think about that, despair, and thrill me at your expense.
Fuck you. Eat shit. I'm glad you're in pain.
0 Comments