HOME | DD

Description
Depression leads to suicide.

Sometimes, maybe depression lead to the truth after all. That is what Maxwell thought. He didn't like himself very much, and he was going to kill himself. He jumped off a cliff, and was put in hospital. He saw his life flash before his eyes. He told his doctor and his nurse the same thing. Next time he figured he might go for razors. He did not think very highly of himself. He hated himself, and he wanted to kill himself. He wanted to be off this planet forever. For a combination of reasons, he wanted to kill himself. He promised he would self harm tomorrow. Tomorrow came, and he began cutting. A small cut on the leg was present. He would do anything to kill himself now. For he hated life almost as much as he hated himself. Maybe if he could leave the stove burning, the gas would expand in the kitchen, and he could die there. The next day, he told his counselor that he had been making plans for suicide.

Maxwell was tired of life. How many times could he suffer? He didn't think he would last for much longer.

To him, people were very fake. They acted like they were always there for him, but the truth is, they were only there for him...half the time. Maybe even a quarter of the time. Because the truth was, people just didn't care all that much. They didn't really care about his feelings on a regular basis. They gave cliche answers for nearly every problem he ever had. He was pretty sure that there wasn't really anything left to go on in life. One thing was for sure, he would kill himself, no matter what. He stood on top of a cliff, on a windy night, and looked down. "Maybe not today." He thought. "Maybe not even tomorrow. But someday, I'll end the suffering. Maybe not even like this, with a cliff. Maybe I'll just stand in front of that car."

Maxwell had set his plan in motion. He had had many plans in his life like this before, with a similar structure. But he had never planned to kill himself. At least, not so elaborately. But then, he had never suffered this much. And that, considering his life, was saying something.

Description
Depression leads to suicide.

Sometimes, maybe depression lead to the truth after all. That is what Maxwell thought. He didn't like himself very much, and he was going to kill himself. He jumped off a cliff, and was put in hospital. He saw his life flash before his eyes. He told his doctor and his nurse the same thing. Next time he figured he might go for razors. He did not think very highly of himself. He hated himself, and he wanted to kill himself. He wanted to be off this planet forever. For a combination of reasons, he wanted to kill himself. He promised he would self harm tomorrow. Tomorrow came, and he began cutting. A small cut on the leg was present. He would do anything to kill himself now. For he hated life almost as much as he hated himself. Maybe if he could leave the stove burning, the gas would expand in the kitchen, and he could die there. The next day, he told his counselor that he had been making plans for suicide.

Maxwell was tired of life. How many times could he suffer? He didn't think he would last for much longer.

To him, people were very fake. They acted like they were always there for him, but the truth is, they were only there for him...half the time. Maybe even a quarter of the time. Because the truth was, people just didn't care all that much. They didn't really care about his feelings on a regular basis. They gave cliche answers for nearly every problem he ever had. He was pretty sure that there wasn't really anything left to go on in life. One thing was for sure, he would kill himself, no matter what. He stood on top of a cliff, on a windy night, and looked down. "Maybe not today." He thought. "Maybe not even tomorrow. But someday, I'll end the suffering. Maybe not even like this, with a cliff. Maybe I'll just stand in front of that car."

Maxwell had set his plan in motion. He had had many plans in his life like this before, with a similar structure. But he had never planned to kill himself. At least, not so elaborately. But then, he had never suffered this much. And that, considering his life, was saying something.