Recipe for Suicide


Cross the

Roads of nightmares
Rivers of pain
Ridges of abuse
Ravines of substances

Collect the

Smell of despair
Sound of broken dreams
Sight of eternity

Combine with

Taste of loneliness
Touch of exhaustion

Cook slowly

Final of the steps



Fallen Angel

I miss the days I didn’t know the feeling of a blade dragging across my skin or the pain of knuckles against the wall. I don’t even remember times where I looked at medicine as a remedy, fast traffic as an annoyance and heights as an adventure. Why did I come to understand why people stay with their abusers? What did I do to deserve knowing what it’s like to cry until there are no tears left and being unable to sleep until you’re glad to black out for a couple hours away from an endless nightmare? Never should I have been able to trace nearly every bone in my body through gray skin to match dead eyes. Shouldn’t therapy have helped and family and friends have been there?

Still, I’m always there for everyone. I tell them that I’ll understand since there’s hardly anything I haven’t been through except one thing. Isn’t it sad that the only thing I can’t relate to, is happiness?


Hmm? A sensation emanates from somewhere. I must have imagined it. It comes again, disturbing the emptiness. I feel something burning, it gets stronger. Leave me alone, let me go back to before the pain. Relentlessly it bothers me. The pain in my lungs and head increase. Wait, head? Lungs? The pain spread from those 2 central points until I feel… my body? My head feels like it’s about to explode and I move my hands from my knees and place them across my ears trying to reduce the pressure.

Where am I? Why does it hurt? Once again the sensation, like a ripple coming from above. I open my eyes as my senses awaken trying to locate the source. I look above and see a girl submerged in water cradling her knees, eyes closed. She slowly seems to awaken, pressed her palms against her head and then looks straight back at me. She stretches out towards me and I mirror her. My arm alone isn’t long enough so I get onto my knees despite protest from sore muscles.

We inch closer and closer until our fingers touch. I am flooded with images of the girl. Her childhood, how she was lost to darkness, how she fell in this pit, how she couldn’t find an exit, how the water rose and nearly drowned her, her giving up and sinking to the bottom ready to disappear into nothingness. Then my fingers breach the surface and the girl fades. I stand up and as my head surfaces I take a deep breath, that feels good. The pain lessens, my mind starts to clear.

I cough up a fluid streaked red… blood. The water suddenly feels strangely cold and I try to see the end to this basin of water but my eyes only see darkness. Hadn’t it been fuller? What had it really been that disturbed the quiet? how did it get in? Is there a way out? I just start wading in a random direction, hoping to find a change.

After an eternity of walking I’ve achieved nothing, this place seems to have no end. Yet the water is now lower than it was before, where it had come to my shoulders earlier it now lurks at hip level. My hair has dried and my lungs and head are no longer painful but my muscles still protest my every move. I decide to rest for a bit, it might earn me some relief.

The memories seem like those of a different person, I don’t feel connected to them whatsoever. People I used to know are just faces with names, events that happened seem like movies with someone else playing the lead and feelings seemed to have dissolved like sugar in water.

I wake up with my throat aching, my muscles still sore and my body feeling heavy. The water is barely up to my ankles now. Water… I scoop some up with my hands and drink. It’s salty, the taste is familiar. The weight of the loneliness is starting to crush me and I feel tears rolling down my cheeks. I accidentally swallow some as I wail. It tastes the same as the water I’d scooped up…


I’ve been dead for 8 years, that’s how I usually explain dealing with the thoughts of suicide. When you’re prepared to give up on life can you really say you’re still living? For me it started at the shocking age of 8 years old, now I haven’t a clue how on earth I would have offed myself had I gone trough with it but nonetheless this darkness has never left me. I have certainly grown up and gotten stronger but the battle remains and in this time of turmoil the writer in me can’t help but jot things down during some of my best and worst moment so what the rest of this post holds is anything but happy poems and stories about rainbows and unicorns. Read at your own risk and remember, I’m still here so don’t do what I couldn’t.

I wish to do die, or so I say 9 years after I first thought so. I’m still here, life hasn’t gotten better. In fact it has gotten worse. I often wonder why I can’t give up and follow the one thing I’ve been most certain of my entire life. Hope? Such a fragile thing has long faded. Love? Only my cat holds it for me while I have plenty for others. I’m always putting others before myself, I’m not necessarily kind though. It keeps me busy and feel a lot less useless. In fact most often I see people as opportunities and could adapt to make friends with almost anyone. I don’t know who I am and why I’m still going.

Nobody really knows who I am and no one can save me. I’m a lost cause, yet I can’t escape yet. I’m fighting my fate, myself and plenty more. “I don’t want all my suffering to have been for nothing. It shouldn’t be all I knew.” My reason for living, I couldn’t find anything better. The world will go on without me though some might fall after me that won’t be able to bother me when I’m gone. Still something keeps resisting keeping me in this hell. They say suicide sends you to hell but I’ve got the feeling that place isn’t half as bad as what I’m going through right now.

I fake a smile and say I’m fine. I don’t even know why, but it hurts that no one has come up and called me on bluff. No one has tried to save me, I’m on my own. Together alone. How mannieth time is this that I’ve hit rock bottom, 5th? 6th? Sigh, why bother thinking of reasons to keep me here? Even a stupid to do list… But I really do want to do those things but I also really want this shit to be over.

“You say you wish to die, but in reality you just want to be saved.” “Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.” What if there’s nothing worth saving? What if problems aren’t temporary and those that are get solved only to give way to more? I could jump out of the window right now, I live on the 5th floor, but… always buts… always indecisive. Total opposites, 2 voices never giving me a rest. So many decisions, never a right answer.

I don’t even remember what being happy is like, I get paranoid when I’m on a lucky streak, insomnia and hallucinations are usual occurrences. So many disorders it’s hard to distinguish them and who’s causing what. Always exhausted, never good enough. Pessimist, an optimist who’s been disappointed too often. From stories I’ve heard that I was a happy kid once upon a time. It’s been so long since I’ve gone wrong. I might seem innocent and weak but I have a dark side I don’t like showing, how else have I survived so long. I can count the times I’ve been angry, not pissed, really angry. That’s when all the swallowed words and beard pain breaks free. The results were never pretty.

If people that claim to know me ever read this they’d probably be shocked, we all have our secrets but mine are very very dark. Some know I imagine pretty scenarios and happy endings but I also imagine killing myself or others or at least letting them feel something close to my pain. They might try to save me but then it’d be to late, I’m already far gone. Even if I live even the part fighting to stay alive agrees I don’t want to grow old, it’s just a matter of time. Still I’d prefer if I was killed or something, matter of honour and it’d take the decision away from me.

For now I’ll focus on completing my to do list, some entries are very childish but whatever. One might take a very long time and I’m not sure if I can complete it. Then there are things I want to say to certain people, I can only do that on the last day I guess. Will I leave a note? Do I want to be buried? How can I kill myself in a way that my organs can still be donated? Man I’ve never really sorted those things out, huh.

Caught in war 

Why am I always torn

Why can I never choose

After years I’m all worn

I think I’m soon to lose

A war without a victor

And nothing to be gained

With all I’ve been trough

It has only earned me pain

Still I cling to wishes

It’s what gets me out of bed

But in fact the truth is

They only created chaos in my head

Stalked by nightmares

Lost in dreams

It leaves me scared

I wish I could scream

I don’t remember happiness

I’m paranoid when I’m in luck

Innocence is a long gone bliss

I pretend not to give a fuck

But I do care

I still feel

Even though I’m scared

I want theses wounds to heal

Fantasy is my escape

Writing my way to vent

Loneliness something I crave

Food a main event

Socially awkward

A clumsy romantic

But don’t get it backwards

I’m still a fun chick

Who am I?

An easy question? No, not everyone truly knows who they are. I didn’t know for a long time. But let’s answer the question…

I am Anouk Borsboom, born on 9 November 1998, 14 at the moment of  typing this. I’m a girl, shy, honest and intelligent. I love gaming and reading in my free time. I’m manager, gamer and main editor at my Youtube Channel which I share with some of my friends. I’m creative, serious and it’s hard to gain my trust. I’m really into computers and other iCT stuff.

That’s the present, let’s talk about the future; I have no idea what to study and I have 2,75 years of school left. I’ll be 15 in 2 months and I’ll graduate at the age of 17. After that I want to have a gap year which I will spend in Australia with a holiday work visa, I have an Aunt there so I can stay with her. That’s all I have planned, what I do know is what I don’t want: I don’t want to live in Holland or Germany later, I’m not going to do anything in tourism and I will never go to France (I hate the language).

And my past is rather unusual for a 14 year old, I’ve been trough more shit than most people my age. Let’s start at the beginning: I was born (of course) and I was a happy child (said my parents). I got a little brother when I was 2,5 years old and I was really happy he was there. At the age of 4 (Dutch system is unusual) I went to school, I was kinda a weird case, since I was born in november I came in like halfway during the year. I was placed in the middle group in stead of the same group as my best friends S&N (They remain anonymous) . I got bullied and I didn’t really like it that much, so I became less of a happy child. My brother was about 1,5 at that time and he was starting to get really annoying, he was always so loud! After 2 years I was allowed to go with my friends to class 3 (1 for most countries) where you where going to seriously learn. By that time my brother started having ”anger attacks” which, according to my parents, were caused by me. So I got punished by things like no computer for a week, it isn’t much but if you’re punished for something you didn’t do at that age you take it in badly. I stopped being the happy child, I just become the sad girl that always followed the rules and got good grades = a nerd.

Skipping to class 5 (3) I got bullied again and I felt really bad, if it wasn’t for my friends and games I would have tried to kill myself (at the age of 8!), but that would have never succeeded. The bullying went on for 2 years, but in the end my bullies slowly started to respect me instead of pick on me because I was different. Class 8 (6) was just a weird year, with a musical and the CITO test (to determine which level secondary school). I got pfeifer and glasses somewhere in that year and I was allowed to go to the highest level possible gymnasium (don’t know what it’s in english, it’s not sporty or anything).

So I came in the class with my friend N which is slowly lost during the first year. I didn’t really have any friends and I didn’t like school. The second year was even worse, I started struggling on subject and getting depressed by the loneliness. I got bad grades at French and Latin and just hated both, so I decided halfway down the year that I wanted to go one step lower which meant losing Latin and ancient Greek and joining my meanwhile changed friend S. I just pushed everyone away from me and eventually my cat didn’t even like me anymore. I saw the class change as a final chance to regain happiness and get out of the depression. During the summer holidays I was seriously struggling with suicidal thoughts until I refound Youtube.

I used to think Youtube was just for music videos, but it holds way more! My annoying brother was watching this guy who called himself Pewdiepie, now the biggest youtuber, and I started watching his videos myself. He really made me laugh, I hadn’t laughed for weeks before that! I just got a little happier and I started to find more Youtubers to watch, like Captainsparkles, and that is what got me trough the holidays.

Bu then it was time for school again, the first week was a sudden death (could have been literally but then I wouldn’t have been here), if it didn’t work out I would do it, I was already making plans when I was just alone the first 2 hours when suddenly: People invited me to their group (some of them are with me on my channel). They were really nice and we become friends and I become happier 🙂 ! They also helped me get back into the vibe of finding clothes which were trendy enough.

Somewhere in the second month of school I started a Youtube channel called DorAnouk which was filled with videos of my cat and of me gaming. When I asked if I could film this DIY thing on my birthday party my friends wanted to join the channel, that was when we become PTG (the Pretty Tough Girlz). I was the manager, gamer and editor, K was the nail artist and co-editor (sometimes) and I was the hairstylist and you still had Dora.

It was an really amazing year but then I had to move! To germany, 600 freaking kilometers away from where I used to live. It was because of my dad’s work and I would go and live in an apartment and go to an international school. At first I was angry, I was just getting okay building a good social life and future. It did result in my grades and I wasn’t able to do certain courses anymore if I stayed. Eventually I accepted it because all I would leave behind was my friends and we would go back every holiday. The moving wasn’t exactly smooth since me my mom and my brother went by train first to a practically empty house. The movers came with our furniture the day after and my dad and cat were still in Holland.

We arrived on a tuesday and had to go to school on monday, the wifi came on thursday and my dad after the first school week. It was weird living that way also because we didn’t have a fully furnitured house yet since we kept the one in Holland. It’s still not furnitured and we’ve been here for 1 month almost, I mean it’s fuller but not done. Our cat was pretty stressed when she arrived but she’s fine now.

I almost immediately made friends on my new school, but not like 5, more like 11. Each of em just as weird as me *_* ! I’m already invited to a birthday party and we’re having a class trip soon so I’m fine again, but it could have gone way worse…

Somewhere during the 2 terrible secondary school years there were problems with my brother ( he has Autism) but it’s to personal to tell.

The channel is not like really big, we have 28 subs and 93 videos, we don’t expect to get famous, it’s just for fun. Just like the IG account I have for my cat with 256 followers

I guess you know know me… it would be nice if you would give a short description of yourself in the comments so I know who my readers are!