Confession Point

When you must confess!

i am a 13 year old girl who has brown eyes and dark brown straight hair i get called an emo, ring girl ect ect.. i want to kill myself in front of my class just to tell them how much pain they have caused im gonna plan my sucidal note soon.


It’s Sunday morning and there’s no one I can talk to so here goes. I confess.

I told my friends that I only made out with the crazy stuntman i met last week. Everyone who met him said “Wow, what a wild man. Where did you meet him? He is soooo not the guy for you,” I mean, I’m a bookworm and computer geek and he sets himself on fire for a living. But it’s been so long since there was any fire or passion in my life. And those friends who said those safe, dismissive things don’t know about the wild woman in my soul — the one who couldn’t say no to the matching flame I saw in him.

So I told them we went out, had drinks, made out and that was that but the truth is this: We had amazing, life-affirming sex for hours — wild, caveman/cavewoman you-Tarzan-me -Jane sex that would horrify all these PC, respectful SNAGs (sensitive new-age guys) I’m typically with. There’s nothing quite like alpha-male testosterone, and talk about mad manskillz…I”m getting aroused just thinking about it now. He left the bed we shared for a stunt yesterday morning, after trying to get me to come with him. I left the bed we shared baffled, rattled, sore, and not knowing myself anymore. I mostly ignored his effusive, adoring calls and texts he sent me from the road but he never called me after his stunt like he said he would.

So here I am, 24 hours after my last round of rough, crazy, wild-beast sex with this man, trying to process the call I just got from his team: the stunt went wrong and he’s in ICU, really fucked up. His team and family are all there and I’m sitting here covered with bruises and bitemarks, thinking of his firm, gorgeous body that delighted me for hours, all torn up in ways I can’t even stand to think about. If we hadn’t used condoms his sperm would still be swimming around in me.

Q: What if he dies?
I know what he’d say: “What a way to end it all, a night like that with a woman like you.”

Q: What if he’s just a fucked-up, washed-up vegetable now who needs a lot of care?
I can’t imagine that as an option for him. Just can’t. So full of life, just starting a new tour, big plans and moving to a new town with all sorts of good PR coming out after years of struggle. I’m pretty sure he’d want to sneak out of the hospital early to make his next gig or go out in a big blaze.

The big Q: Did being with me tire him out and distract him and somehow lead to his accident?
The dude was flyin (pretty sure he does speed, from various references), and really pumped about the gig. But man, the details have to be just right to survive the kind of shit he does.

He believes in God, in his own wayward way, and feels that God has kept him alive all these years. Anyone reading this, seriously — if you’re here to get turned on, fine, but please send a plea or prayer skyward for this sweet-talking daredevil, this overgrown kid, this silver-tongued risk-taker whose luck may have run out.


Someone help me…
How can i suicide with little pain?
Give me suggestions.


It sucks I havent had a girlfriend since like 7th grade, and now I am in 12th every girl that i seem to like only likes me as a friend, im a real nice guy but it seems to me that nice guys finish last….it just sucks.


i dont even know what i see in you. you act like a total fucking jerk to me and then the next minute you are flirting with me, acting like you like me. then you go off and flirt with some ugly whore that i absolutly HATE, and you fucking know that. also, that whore that i was talking about, she has a boyfriend, and yet you fucking go make out with her and hold her hand and shit. and then when you’re with me, you talk about how you hate that whore. what the fuck is your deal?!!?!???

i just dont understand it. you told me that you like me, then you dont talk to me. you have caused me 22+ cuts all over my body. you make me feel like a worthless piece of shit sometimes. and then i cut myself. is the only way i can get my anger out, becasue if i asked you about it then you would lie to me, even though i know the truth. danm, why do i even bother?


Do you see them? Do you see how they hurt? The vestiges of pain and regret? As clear as day they stripe my arm. The scars leave behind a memory…a torturous memory…

I was addicted to it. It wasn’t the pain, it wasn’t sting, it was satisfaction of retribution…

I would cut deep into my flesh and let the blood drip and drip on the ground…I’d paint the ground in pools of blood…my blood…

I’d keep a blade close…it was my friend…I was my enemy…

No one knows…but they all see, clearly can they peer…they don’t know my story…but they see the scars…of pain,of suffering,of life…

They murmur and judge amongst themselves…I wonder if they ever felt something so…so…deep…that tears wouldn’t suffice…do they know the meaning of pain?

But who really knows my pain? Is there someone? Anyone? Come to me, so that I might be healed.

So I can be……free.


I’m a total cunt. I dump my boyfriend after cheating on him, and I act like HE’S the bad guy. But I totally feel that way. I want him to come back and I have to give up.
This isnt much of a confession, i kinda want to kill myself. Im sick of who I am.


well i dont even know what life i have, First all, i’ve never seen my real mom since i was born, I walk away from my dad house b/c he treated me like a shit. I missed 1month of school b/c my aunt lazy enough to get my transcript from my previous school. Plus, the girl i met online she always drive me insane. She always cheat on me, And yeah i still love her! I dont even have a job yet and im in the house playing games everyday. Sometimes im thinking committing suicide. My heart is full of pain, sadness, and sometimes i dont even know myself anymore. I wish there someone loves me. someone care about me. someone make me happy. I wish there’s someone…GOD HELP ME!


Right now I feel like killing myself. Fucking depression. Why the FUCK won’t you leave me alone for ONCE in my GODDAMNED LIFE?! WHEN will I get my control back?

I know I can’t help it, it’s just the way I am. There’s nothing I can do about it. But it’s been too long. There’s nothing I should be upset about right now. My life is fine. It’s just me. I can’t let me be happy. I’m getting progressively worse.

My worst punishment imaginable. Being forced to watch myself crumble from within. Dying in my own mind. This is the monster that I live with, every single day. I can’t explain it to anyone. The mention of depression makes them shy away like I’m contageous. I can’t explain how it affects me. How it controls me. How i CANT STOP IT.

The worst thing is that I know I will wake up in about a week and all of this will have gone away. I will wake up feeling just fine and dandy. And then all I can do is wait. Wait for the next episode. Wait for a few months time where something ticks me off and sends me down this familiar spiral.

I’m frightened, and terrified and there’s nothing I can do.


I get phantom-pains in my arm from where I used to cut myself over a year and a half ago. I’m just numb there. Except occasionally, when I – or someone else- touches my arm, I remember the pain again. Or at least my body remembers the pain again. I will never cut again, but it hurts more to have the constant reminder that I was once unhappy, so visual on my skin. I hate what I did to myself.
I love my boyfriend even more for being understanding of it. He knows, athough we have never really talked about it. He’s said a thousand times that he loves me for who I am, and not for what I used to do to myself. I want to tell him how much I owe my life to him. But when he reaches over and touches my arm – not even realizing- accidentally – it makes me uncomfortable and I hate myself for it. He once touched my arm during sex, and I had to pull away.

What I tried to heal on the inside, by damaging myself on the outside, just became deeper and more painful. I have ended up damaging myself on the inside and out.


I just always make the wrong decicions and i do things that cud ruin my life, and that im not proud of at all. but its like i am always sad. and even though i hate it, somehting about me likes being sad because im dramatic like that. Pstch! im just a teenage girl who need to grow up.