Attempt jokes
Me and a person downtown.
Person: Hey, crazy Saturday night.
Me: I guess so.
Person: Why do people do crazy stuff like this?
Me: I don't know. I used to, but don't anymore.
Person: Why'd you stop?
Me: Unfortunately, I lived every time I'd try something.
What's worse than a failed attempt at suicide?
The pity looks people give you and people keep you away from 'dangerous' things.
There's nothing more depressing than a failed suicide attempt.
Things I would have missed if my attempt in 2018 worked...
My attempts in 2019, 2020, and 2021!
A depressed kid takes a drink of water and someone takes it and takes a drink. "Oh come on, the train stopped, the rope broke, I couldn't get on the building, the gun was empty, the knife was dull, the bridge was too low, and the cliff was nonexistent, and now you took the poison!"
You call it suicide. I call it a failed parkour attempt.
It must not be a good suicide story if you can tell it.
I believe "Self-Baptism" is a nice way of saying "Failed Suicide Attempt."
Depressed person: *chokes on food*
*involuntary coughs until they can breathe*
"AWWW! I failed the race!"
If the noose breaks, stab yourself!
If the knife is dull, shoot yourself!
If the gun's out of ammo, *YOU'RE HERE TO SUFFER ETERNALLY.*
Heyyy, in the last six months, [I had] 4 suicide attempts, broke up with 3 girls, and my mom went on drugs.
Jack opened his drying eyes, awoken by a piercing ray of sunlight shining through crooked blinds. A gentle smell wafted in from the corner of what his temporarily blinded eyes knew to be a dilapidated kitchen. It was the one good thing about his life, that smell. He closed his eyes once more and awaited his call.
“Jacky, breakfast time!” beckoned that oh-so-familiar girlish voice. “Oh, silly me, the handcuffs!”
The same footsteps he always heard, the only ones, tapped along the tile floor as each one of Jack’s limbs were freed from the cold metal that imprisoned them. He’d learned not to resist it, and the acceptance was blissful.
Jack slowly dragged himself to the kitchen table, still adjusting his eyes to the light. Moments later, a bowl was slid over to him by a hand he’d become all too familiar with. Oatmeal with little bits of dried apple mixed in. Even after four years, he still liked it.
“Thank you, Randy,” Jack muttered.
“Jill,” said the girl’s voice across from him. The girl’s voice vanished.
“You call me Randy when I’m having my way with you, boy. Understood?” said the balding, sweat-stained man from whom Jill’s voice came.
“Yes, sir.”
“Now hurry up and eat your food. I want to have some more fun before you expire.”
Jack ate obediently, but deep down he grew concerned. Expired? What could Randy mean by…expired?
He thought back to the day everything went wrong. The day he was deceived. His 14th birthday.
Four years…already? Was Jack really about to be an adult? Then expired means…
Jack stood up quickly, hitting his knees on the table with a thud.
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Which one?”
“The one you don’t like to watch,” Jack replied. Randy waved him away dismissively.
Jack paced around the small shack searching for the bathroom door. He passed the heavily locked front door, each lock a memento of his past escape attempts. Finally, he entered the bathroom. No lock, he had to be fast.
Jack searched desperately around the room for anything he could use. If this was his last round before Randy was through with him, it might be his only chance to escape. He opened drawers, scrounged through cupboards, scoured every inch of the floor, but found a small mirror.
“Almost done, Jacky?” called the voice of Jill. “Don’t keep daddy waiting.” grumbled Randy.
Startled, Jack lost his grip on the mirror. Jack froze the second it fell to the floor and shattered.
“Shit…shit!” he whispered sharply, trying to brush the mess away. In doing so, he found a shard large enough to be held. “This’ll have to do…”
Jack slid the shard in his pocket and returned to the living room he had woken up in. The same old deflated mattress was still there, iron bars and all. Randy lay sprawled across it, a pink lace bra covering his hairy chest, matching panties withholding his dense, greasy bush. His waist had grown so fat they hardly fit, until…
SNAP!
The panties seemed to vanish as the waistband broke, springing his embarrassing, already erect penis from side to side.
“Oopsies,” he cooed.
Jack took off his clothes, as was the ritual, and laid them at the foot of the mattress. His sore knees pressed into the stained fabric while he inched closer to Randy’s pulsating cock. Licking his lips, Jack bent down and took the member into his mouth. Randy groaned with pleasure as Jack’s tongue swirled around his tip, diving into the lining of his foreskin to gather what curds of smegma were present. Jack’s nausea at this had vanished long ago, he was merely going through the motions before enacting his plan.
As he throated Randy’s dick over and over again, the man who had trapped Jack for so long began to thrust upward into his mouth, lightly scratching his face with the overgrown pubes that lined the base of his cock. Jack wiggled his tongue in Randy’s urethra, just how he liked it. Anything to get this over with quicker.
“Ungh, fuck…don’t stop Jack, you dirty little whore…I’m so close,” Randy moaned.
Jack sucked harder and harder, faster and faster, all while his hand slowly inched toward the makeshift blade in his pants behind him. With the weapon in hand, Jack gave it everything he had.
“MMMPH FUCK YES, CMON BABY GIVE IT TO ME! OH JACK, OH, OH FUCK, I’M G-GONNA CUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!” screamed Randy, closing his eyes tightly.
He threw his head back and Jack took his chance. With one fell swoop of the glass shard, he sliced Randy’s dick clean off, spitting the half of it still in his mouth out. Jack lunged at the injured Randy, glass still in hand.
“AAARRGGHHHHHH, FUCK! HAAH…FUCK!” Randy cried, semen oozing out of his bloody stump of a penis. He opened his eyes just as Jack thrust the blade straight into his right one, then his left. Left weak from the orgasm, Randy could hardly fight back.
(To be continued in comments)
A depressed kid didn't succeed at suicide and said, "I'm a failure at suicide, too."
Principal: “Why did you have to skip class? Because of that detention!”
Kid: “Whatever!”
Principal: “Why did you have to swear? Because of that one demerit!”
Kid: “Doesn't matter!”
Principal: “Why did you yell at a teacher and throw a chair at them? Because of that you're suspended!”
Kid: “Oh well!”
Principal: “Why did you have to push a kid down the stairs and kill them? Because of that you're expelled!”
Kid: “I'm trying not to kill myself!”
Best friend *holds a sign up that says "what gender are you?"*
Me: Uh, male?..
Best friend *then unfolds paper so it reads "what gender are you attracted to?"*
Me: You silly goose.
*Silence for like three seconds*
Me: Still male though-
The guard caught one of the fugitives as he tried to escape. All he said was...
"Don't let your guard down."
I tried to catch air once... I mist.
She asked me if I was hung like a horse, but I said no.
I'm hung like a person who wants to die, but then the rope broke.
It was the final examination for an introductory English course at the UW. Like many such freshman courses, it was designed to weed out new students, having over 800 students in the class! The examination was two hours long, and exam booklets were provided. The professor was very strict and told the class that any exam that was not on his desk in exactly two hours would not be accepted and the student would fail.
1/2 hour into the exam, a student came rushing in and asked the professor for an exam booklet.
"You’re not going to have time to finish this," the professor said, as he handed the student a booklet.
"Yes, I will," replied the student. He then took a seat and began writing.
After two hours, the professor called for the exams, and the students filed up and handed them in. All except the late student, who continued writing.
1/2 hour later, the last student came up to the professor who was sitting at his desk preparing for his next class. He attempted to put his exam on the stack of exam booklets already there.
"No, you don’t, I’m not going to accept that. It’s late." The student looked incredulous and angry. "Do you know who I am?"
"No, as a matter of fact, I don’t," replied the professor with an air of sarcasm in his voice.
"Do you know who I am?" the student asked again. "No, and I don’t care," replied the professor with an air of superiority.
"Good," replied the student, who quickly lifted the stack of completed exams, stuffed his in the middle, and ran out of the room.
If you try to fail and you succeed, which one did you do?