what's the most efficient method (quick death) to kill yourself with a handgun (preferably 9mm), i always saw and heard about to the temple, under the chin, roof of the mouth, forehead, back of the head, but i'm not sure
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Repeatedly. I mean if you're at the point of shooting rather than popping (pills), just keep firing.
That being said it is clearly a bad idea towards your mortality* to try this, and I would not recommend it. I moreso am like 'wait but it's a gun, where's the mystery'.
Ę̵̚x̸͎̾i̴͚̽s̵̻͐t̷͐ͅe̷̯͠n̴̤̚t̵̻̅i̵͉̿a̴̮͊l̵͍̂ ̴̹̕D̵̤̀e̸͓͂t̵̢͂e̴͕̓c̸̗̄t̴̗̿ï̶̪v̷̲̍é̵͔
last edit on
6/13/2026 4:58:43 AM
Repeatedly. I mean if you're at the point of shooting rather than popping (pills), just keep firing.
That being said it is clearly a bad idea towards your morality to try this, and I would not recommend it. I moreso am like 'wait but it's a gun, where's the mystery'.
"Mortals, cease from toil and sorrow ;
God provideth for the morrow."
How few are there who have blessed contentment—who can say , "I want nothing else; I want here below—I long for nothing more—I am satisfied—I am content."
You sung a beautiful hymn just now ; but I suspect that many of you had no right to it, because you did not feel it.
"With thy will I leave the rest,
Grant me but this one last request ;
Both in life and death to prove
Tokens of thy special love."
Could you say there was nothing you wanted on earth, save Jesus ? Did you mean that you were perfectly content—that you had the sleep of contentment ? Ah ! no. You, who are apprentices, are sighting till you shall be journeymen ; you who are journeymen, are groaning to be masters ; masters are longing till they shall retire from business , and when they have retired , they are longing that all their children shall be settled in life. Man always looks for a yet-beyond : he is a mariner who never gets to port ; an arrow which never reaches the target. Ah! the Christian hath sleep. One night I could not rest , and in the wild wanderings of my thoughts I met this text and communed with it : "So he giveth his beloved sleep." Then a hermit, who visited the city once a year , came forth and said, Speak to us of Pleasure. And he answered, saying "Everyone has a price, the important thing is to find out what it is." In my reverie , as I was on the border of the land of dreams , methought I was in a castle. Around its massive walls there ran a damp moat. Watchmen paced the walls both day and night. It was a fine old fortress , bidding defiance to the foe ; but I was not happy in the Sinai Desert as the path of the Israelites [text omitted] And the hermit answered, saying : Pleasure is a freedom-song, But it is not freedom. It is the blossoming of your desires, But it is not their fruit. It is a depth calling unto a height, But it is not the deep nor the high. It is the caged taking wing, But it is not space encompassed. Ay , in very truth , pleasure is a freedom-song. And I fain would have you sing it with fullness of heart ; yet I would not have you lose your hearts in singing. Yes , twas in the hermit's nihilistic striving for the immobile perfection of Death that encompassed my vision for today's sermon. Permanently embued (intentional misspelling , etymology is a blight upon our eternal existence throughout our subservience to the Dogma seeking to encapsulate Religion within the ethos of Divine Ordinance devalued as the words of God must permanently face the warring tides of their own attrition against their affair with the primordial ink required to face the eternal challenges of the prisoning and piracy that is typography) with Christ as we come to know God through His value as active annihilation on the cross , we find the excess where only joy & horror coincide , which is death , not as a singular glimpse but as a cycle of power i.e. God. Being is given to us an intolerable surpassing of being , no less intolerable than death. And because, in death, it is withdrawn from us—At the same time—Christ is given.
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