Noddy McScratch
Greenlighter
- Joined
- Nov 10, 2010
- Messages
- 9
This is going to be a depressing read, so if you're of a sensistive disposition I suggest you skip it. I had to post it somewhere and I remembered reading suicide stories here in the past. I just have to talk about it. Sorry.
So my mum calls me and says that he's not answering and that she can't get into his room. I go round and try the door, knock really hard and, still not getting an answer, try kicking it down. It won't budge because he's barricaded it with his sofa - he obviously didn't want any of us to find him and just expected us to ring the emergency services. Dickhead, I would've punched through his wall to get in there with my bare knuckles.
Anyway, he hung himself in the cupboard space built into his wall next to the bathroom. I guess he forgot that it's an airing cupboard - with a crawlspace leading out of his room and into the wall next to the toilet. So I swung myself into, shimmied along the crawlspace and was confronted by him hanging there; little toungue hanging out of his mouth and his eyes glassy like a dolls. I let out an animal cry I didn't recognise coming from myself and went out to hug my mum (who's in fucking hysterics by now, as you can imagine).
The emergency services handled it really well. You can tell they've undergone training and it's paid off fantastically. All credit to them.
I just want to tell people not to kill themselves, it's so devastating to everyone who knows you. Just ring someone and let them deal with it, please. Just pretend you're a dependent; let someone else feed and dress you if need be, just don't kill yourself. It'll hurt those who know you so much, so unbelievably fucking much. They won't hold it against you if you do - they will understand - but they'll be racked by grief for the rest of their lives, and I don't think that even the world's greatest sadist would wish that on anyone.
Anyway, that's me. Thank you for letting me get that off my chest.
I miss you, Max.
So my mum calls me and says that he's not answering and that she can't get into his room. I go round and try the door, knock really hard and, still not getting an answer, try kicking it down. It won't budge because he's barricaded it with his sofa - he obviously didn't want any of us to find him and just expected us to ring the emergency services. Dickhead, I would've punched through his wall to get in there with my bare knuckles.
Anyway, he hung himself in the cupboard space built into his wall next to the bathroom. I guess he forgot that it's an airing cupboard - with a crawlspace leading out of his room and into the wall next to the toilet. So I swung myself into, shimmied along the crawlspace and was confronted by him hanging there; little toungue hanging out of his mouth and his eyes glassy like a dolls. I let out an animal cry I didn't recognise coming from myself and went out to hug my mum (who's in fucking hysterics by now, as you can imagine).
The emergency services handled it really well. You can tell they've undergone training and it's paid off fantastically. All credit to them.
I just want to tell people not to kill themselves, it's so devastating to everyone who knows you. Just ring someone and let them deal with it, please. Just pretend you're a dependent; let someone else feed and dress you if need be, just don't kill yourself. It'll hurt those who know you so much, so unbelievably fucking much. They won't hold it against you if you do - they will understand - but they'll be racked by grief for the rest of their lives, and I don't think that even the world's greatest sadist would wish that on anyone.
Anyway, that's me. Thank you for letting me get that off my chest.
I miss you, Max.



