Hello, everyone.

I see I see...no warm reception? Fine by me. Just sit and angst for a while,
I'm gonna grill you for a bit.
Get in your faces about some shit.

Kind of like those adults,
like they know anything.

So...let's start off with a question? Teenage suicide?
If someone held a knife to your throat.
"Wanna die?" Teenage homicide.

What would you say?
"NO!"
Or yes? Maybe perhaps? free trip to death.
But really go there, I don’t want your fuckin' emo shit.

Tell me...Would you really, when faced with a real blade
of ice cold steel, the prospect of never seeing day,
or night, if you like that better, ever again?

How about the people you love? Don’t love? those you hate.
How about not being able to see the sky, or the trees...
I know someone here likes trees.

A teenage suicide? All bloody and gory? lovely. Would you let him kill you?

The knife would cut deep in your throat, excruciating pain for a moment.
Gasp. Choke.

Blood in your lungs.
Sputter, pain. Regret.
End of story.

So no? Perhaps No? Say no. Why 'yes' if you are still fuckin' standing here?

Oh, I see. You don’t want it to be over that quick?
I don’t think you have looked at it like this before.

this TEENAGE SUICIDE!

Bulimia, Anorexia, maybe something that doesn’t yet have a name.
Cutters, mutilators, DRUGS SEX AND PLAY!

Suicide.

Just the same.

Slow and painful murder.

Escape, Escape little pee-on. Escape from your angsty world of hate
and guilt, escape from the false, amplified, dramatized and real pain...

Escape by KILLING. Murder.

Escape with that attention's short high.

Into disease.

Suicide.

Let's talk about starving today. The others are important too, but honestly, I could keep you here a lot longer and I'm sure you don’t want THAT.

MEDIA!
Scapegoat.
Blame, blame...........BLAME.

Everything influences you. Think about it.

Skinny bodies. Pretty faces. Everything a girl (or boy) should be.

Everyone wants you to be.....teeny. tiny.  smaller....cant you feel it? can you feel the wonderful feeling of being pretty?

No.

You’re still FAT.

I know it's very real feeling. I'm a girl too.

I look in the mirror and see...

UNPRETTY!
UNLOVED!
FAT UGLY PIMPLEY SHORT NASTY-THICK-UNRULY HAIR AND BUSHY EYEBROWS ROUND NOSE DOUBLE CHIN, UGLY SMILE YELLOW TEETH SCARRED UP FACE BIG EARS. FAT.

Pretty? Pah-lees.

Wanna kill it.

It'll make you feel better.

THROW IT UP!

Food is your enemy. Come on girls! You there with the popcorn. WORLD SAYS FEEL GUILTY!

Fat, salt, butter....fat fat fat. You'll get fat. The whole world is fat.

"I'm not the world.
I want to commit suicide!"

Okay. I got that off my chest.


What?


You don’t understand?!
OK!
We'll start right there.

For some of you this may be disturbing. I ask you, open your minds or leave the room. Be ready to feel, do something along with me, a little pretend.

What's the worst thing you have seen? For most of you, it's probably death. I'm sure at least part of this group of people I now address has seen someone DIE. Die die die. Gran on a hospital bed? a slow beep beep of the heart monitor...silence.

Or was it your best friend in that car-crash on that guilty night?
Maybe it wasn’t death but your father beating your mother till she lay perfectly still and he passed out.
Come on. I know something gets to you.
Razor-blades? Aspirin? Drugs? Don’t pretend, don’t pretend. You've all seen it, something, no innocent here.

Something that makes you wake up in cold sweats.

So.



She gets up from dinner and clears off her plate, I say she though boys, I know, sometimes do this too (after all...skinny is the thing, mr. pretty little bare-chest with his ribs showing through his pale skin Hello? HOT!           not.)   

With a courtesy she finishes the dishes and shoves another helping of anything she can find from everyone's plates into her mouth. Five minutes later she is gone. Five. Ten. Twenty...all her friends know what she's doing in there.

Retch. Retch. Get it all out. Purge purge....

Thirty. tick...tick. click. She opens the bathroom door and smiles. It all went down the toilet, now I don’t have to feel bad right? they thought I ate it, I don’t get fat....I swished some water so they can’t even smell. A remark about missing the toilet paper excuses the time it took and I'm home free.

free. To kill myself.

Remember that death I mentioned? that horrible thing? Ooh, remember how much pain everyone went through?

But you don’t have to feel it.
You're the one dying.
They don’t even know, right?

TEENAGE SUICIDE!

High-school, High-school...college too.

"Damn she's looking good lately, losing weight so well!"
"She has the perfect figure, way to go girl!"
"Perfect perfect, not too thin not too fat."

Attention. YAY! Celebrate!

More suicide! this works great!

Thinner, bones! finally I can see my bones.

"Ohmygod. I can see her bones."

SUCCESS! Just like the pictures in the books, right?
WRONG-O!
I still don’t look good. Stretch-marks loose-skin...it looks like FAT to me.

Plus...now people are starting to REALLY notice me.

Woah







Dizzy.
Fell.
What the hell?

Oh well.

"Dinner time, how will I get away with murder?
Yes, yes! they left the house! Now I can purge..."


Still don’t get it?
Over-the-top.
TEENAGE SUICIDE!

Okay. So. You’re fat. And ugly. So is everyone else. Yeah. Dammit. Me too.

I have an Idea!!! I wanna kill myself too!

People will love me if I kill myself!

Killing myself in the bathroom sounds fun!

So let’s see...oh...but I don’t like to throw up.
Maybe if I just don’t eat?
That works! Look! I can see my ribs.

BAD BAD BAD BAD BAD! Whatever happened to hitting stupid people with sticks?!?!

Okay. So it's a disease. But who is spreading it?
Why our children, our peers, our siblings...our friends and our teachers, our mentors our spouses KILLING people? Killing themselves.

Your a people right?
A person?
Yeah. See. You’re killing someone right now.

DONT GIVE ME NO SHIT ABOUT "WE. ALL. DIE.!"

Hurry it along why don’t you and save me your moaning.
No.

I'm trying to save some lives here.

Calm, calm.

More drama? Yes, indeed. Okay. So my best friend.

Jane.

Or Sue.

Or Thom.

They're all manic-depressive obsessive-compulsive bipolar people with anxiety attacks.

So are you.
and you.
and you.
and you.
and you.
and you.
and you.

Wahoo. WELCOME TO FUCKING TEENAGE AND TWEENAGE YEARS!

Enjoy your stay.

Everyone feels this way.

It's not just today,

I regret to say.

I'm so freaking tired of picking up the pieces
of holding you,
coddling you
telling you how pretty, wonderful, and beautiful you are

JUST SO YOU CAN ANGST AGAIN HOW HORRIBLE YOU ARE.

teenage suicide.

You fish for those compliments, or that's how it starts out

I KNOW IT. I do it. Don’t believe me?

Waah.

I think I'll cry.

Now you think I'm a bitch.

:) yay.

I do it. I have done it. I KNOW teens. I'm a teen. I'm a teenage suicide MISSION.

It's a really good feeling. Knowing someone cares.
I like it!
You tell them you suck.

"Aw, don’t say that! you don’t suck Katie!"

Ah but I do...see...I'm fat.

"But you're so much skinnier than me!"

I'm ugly.

"No! You're pretty...c'mere, have a hug."

No boy will ever like me.

"Boys are stupid right now. One will come along some day and he will love you though!. Plus, you could probably have any boy you want."

And now, ladies and gents, I am batting one hundred. I have sympathy, I have love. I have compliments! Now...let's make a good thing last.

Tears tears. thanks. I know you were lying to me but I feel better.

"Aw! I wasn’t lying."

one hundred more! points for me! SYMPATHY!


                                                                Suicide.

SO THEN!

Some of you are logical right?

Moaning

groaning.

TIRED of poetry?

Facts, okay....facts about teenage suicide?

They say eight million Americans have eating disorders and the numbers are climbing.

Ten to fifteen percent die in ten years.

Eighteen to twenty percent in twenty years have finally managed to finish themselves off.

LESS THAN HALF. Thirty to forty percent survive. THIRTY TO FORTY PERCENT!

Look at your fingers. Think of them as each a section of eight million people. Look at them. All ten hundredths of eight MILLION people. Now hold up three or four fingers. Those are the ones that lived to rid themselves of their disorders.

For WHAT? For what do more than half the people in a group with "disorders" "disease" FOR WHAT DO MORE THAN HALF OF THEM DIE?

Suicide.

A slow, steady suicide that rips And TEARS and wrenches the souls of those around you...

FOR WHAT?

Okay, c'mon now smart people! give me a good reason why you should stop eating again?

Was it 'cause you’re FAT? I got news

Fat only gets you so far. Fat constitutes diets. Fat constitutes not wearing bikinis. Fat doesn’t constitute more than half of these "fat" people killing themselves.

But I'm ranting. Need more stats? Wonderful. Google loves you.

Anorexia is third most common chronic illness among us.
You, your peers.
FIFTY PERCENT of LITTLE GIRLS, eleven to thirteen think they're FAT.
Eighty percent of little thirteen year old girls try to lose weight.
call it what you will....it's suicide.


SO NOW. He puts a knife to your throat? What do you say?

TEENAGE HOMICIDE!

Teenage suicide?

Kill yourself, slowly, surely starve your body to fit in a box that only exists in your head?

Let the knife slip beneath your starved neck?
Or turn around and punch the motherfucker with the knife?!

Fit in that box girls...once you start you can’t stop, or so they say.

Lies.

Suicide.

YOUR DONT HAVE TO BELEIVE. In. Suicide.

Not just eating disorders.
Death
death.
Suicide slow and painful. worry yourself to death...do reckless things. cut yourself (a little bit deeper each time) bleed. Sex....sex at our age? suicide. Trip out on the latest fad-drug? suicide. Trying to fit in with a gang, group, or clique by dangerous hazing or testing? suicide. Joining gangs? Suicide, a very slow kind. Forgetting conveniently that to live your body needs food? The reason we have FUCKING MOUTHS? Suicide.

Teen

age

suicide.

Thank you for listening. Hope you felt something stir.