Welcome to www.suicidehelpfriends.com, where you're never alone and help is only a click away!
Share your thoughts, feelings, frustrations, anger and despair with the Internet Community. Feel free to take as much time-and as much space-as you need. And remember to seek professional help. A brighter day is in store for your life, so stick with it!
Post #1 by: kgirl9 6-Dec-2011 9:33
Not sure how to start this……god how i hate my life. my parents divorced about ayear ago and mom's barely scraping by. It seems like my bff these days is my sister and shes always with her boyfriend. Sometimes I feel so alone. Schools okay but I dont have anyone there i can trust and really talk to. Anyone out there?
--End Post #1--
Post #1.1 by: soothingbutt 7-Dec-2011 3:43
Reply to: kgirl9, Post #1
ur a stupid bitch you know that why dont you shut the f up ? Do us all a really big favor and just die stupid bitch
--End Post #1.1--
Post #1.2 by: Croatoan1587 21-Dec-2011 11:04
Reply to: soothingbutt, Post #1.1
But my, you're an interesting fellow. Your posts are quite colorful. And funny!
You know what else is funny? Human nature. Studies have shown that people in cloistered environments (that's protected in case you need the dictionary) are more brazen in their dealings with other people.
In other words, when you're under the impression that your ass is covered, you're less likely to be watching out for it.
Take road rage, for example. Experts believe that driver aggression can be attributed, in part, to the inability to see the people they're sharing the road with. The person who hesitates at the yield sign at the end of an on-ramp may be a minister. Or an elderly woman. Or a psychopath. But because you feel protected by the confines of your car-and you can only see the object and not the person-you don't hesitate to lay on the horn and flip him or her off as you speed by.
The danger, of course, is that dark, unknowable person driving the other car is also safely ensconced in a confined, cloistered environment. And he may have his own motivations.
Computers have only recently become vehicles in their own right. Since the advent of the Internet and the Web, people have been interacting with others without ever having the benefit of seeing the person they're flipping off.
Of course the analogy isn't perfect. Computers aren't cars, and the "Information Superhighway" isn't a road. There are things you'd never try behind the actual wheel of a car that you would on-line, because as a motorist there are ways for the average person to track you…to peel away the anonymity of your vehicle to reach the person inside.
License plates numbers. They can be read-and memorized-by most everyone. The relative complexity of tracking someone online guarantees that anything sent there will be untraced. And unpunished.
Until, that is, until you encounter someone who knows how to record your license plate number.
Yours, for example, is "galveston.tx.gal.rogerscable.net".
Well, it isn't your license plate number, of course. Just the Internet service provider you use. Kind of like the street address of the motor vehicle department that issued your license plate.
Are you still with me?
Many web sites that collect sensitive information give you an extra layer of protection by encrypting your information and ensuring it's being sent to the right place. There are ways around this "protection", of course, but it's a moot point.
www.suicidehelpfriends.com doesn't use it. Never did. Funny, huh?
A really good driver knows how to squeeze every last mile out of the distance between two points…and to find the best shortcuts. Point A to point B. From my town to yours. From that location to your Internet service provider. And from there…closer still.
You're probably a person blessed with a healthy dose of self-preservation, right? You'd never flip off, say, a Special Forces soldier if the two of you were standing toe-to-toe. Unless, of course, you were a Special Forces soldier yourself.
Which you most certainly are not.
You never so much as enlisted. In fact, you were arrested in 2003 protesting Operation Iraqi Freedom at Texas A&M. That was two years before your academic probation and subsequent expulsion.
I'm not one to judge, mind you. It's probably for the best. Just what kind of a career could you have gotten had you achieved that degree in English Composition with a cumulative GPA of 1.7?
Still, I would have expected an English major-even a bad one-to be a bit more grammatically correct in their correspondence. A bit more…elegant?
Your grandmother would have been. She used to be a schoolteacher. Does she know how you've been using her computer? Maybe you should 'fess up. It is, after all, her house.
And as a former patient of Dr. Henry Jannings, Ph.D., you should know about the subtleties of mental illness. The mind can sometimes be as fragile as a house of cards…and just as prone to blow down at the most benign gust of fetid wind.
Take kgirl9 for example. Two weeks ago, she was a shy, beautiful sixteen year-old girl, though "beautiful" is most likely not a word she'd ever use to describe herself. And unlike you, she did fairly well in school. She probably would have gone far, had her house of cards not folded.
Her real name was Amy Redding and she was from Tulsa, Oklahoma.
I suppose even the best drivers can't always reach their destinations in time. I traced her as far as her doorstep, but by then all I could do was go to her funeral. I know how to blend in well, and there were a lot of people in attendance. Apparently the only one who would have been surprised at the outpouring of grief was Amy herself.
Human nature again. Funny!
I'm probably wasting your time. Amy was, after all, just another car, limping along the breakdown lane when you showed up. And since you didn't look into the driver's window at the person inside, you laid on your horn and flipped her off as you sped by. And the gust of wind at your passing collapsed the shaky supports to everything she was.
I was there, too. You didn't count on a witness to your little drive-by on the "Information Superhighway", did you? Isn't life interesting?
But it's getting late. Based on your site usage, you're probably reading this at or around 3:30 AM on Thursday, December 22, 2011. That'll be approximately an hour after getting back to your grandmother's house from your night job at Hasting's Warehouse on Fulton Street.
Incidentally, you left Hasting's without locking the rear door by the dumpster yesterday. Don't worry. I locked it for you. Greg Engle, your supervisor, can be a prickly little guy, can't he?
Because, Warren, sometimes the best drivers do make it to their destinations right when they expect to. And we all have to leave the safety of our cars sometime.
I look forward to peeling back our respective layers of digital cover. To finally meet you face to face.
Very, very soon.
--End Post #1.2--