The first inkling my husband had that I was thinking about suicide was when he checked my blog.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Write something, even if it's just a suicide note.
Early on, if I was alone two three nights in a row, I'd start writing poems about suicide.
It is always consoling to think of suicide: in that way one gets through many a bad night.
I started putting down my thoughts on paper out of loneliness while I was studying in America. I was very close to my grandfather, and when he died, I couldn't visit home. I started scribbling those thoughts.
That's the thing about suicide. Try as you might to remember how a person lived his life, you always end up thinking about how he ended it.
No one ever committed suicide while reading a good book, but many have tried while trying to write one.
Sometimes I wonder if suicides aren't in fact sad guardians of the meaning of life.
If you are of the opinion that the contemplation of suicide is sufficient evidence of a poetic nature, do not forget that actions speak louder than words.
Depression is close to me, but suicide hasn't been.
When I kept a diary, I realised that it was all moanings and depression, and I think that is quite common.