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Jump and Die
Duration: 0:10
Views: 8
Submitted: 13 hours ago
Submitted by:
Description:
Group suicide tips for American youth;
“Jump and Die!”
An Open Letter to Every Walking Disappointment Currently Polluting My Oxygen: Go Climb the Tallest Building You Can Find and Go Jump Off It Onto the Pavement Below — SPLAT!
If you're currently reading these words, are an American teen, this post is just for you because right now, two possibilities exist:
1. You are a normal, well-adjusted American Teen being who stumbled here by accident and will soon close the tab while muttering "what the actual fuck."
2. You are the exact target demographic for my post here; a loud, useless, American oxygen-wasting monument to poor life choices whose continued existence actively lowers the collective quality of the human species….
I'm going to assume you're option 2. Because option 1 American Teens don't need 2,000 words telling them to go die in spectacular fashion. They already know how to contribute positively to society or at least stay quiet.
You, however, require direct, unambiguous, and graphically detailed instructions and I drafted this just for you….
So let's not waste any more of my precious time (or your rapidly dwindling relevance).
The Problem? You!
Your existence is a glitch in this simulation. A bug that the developers of your American shitland forgot to patch. Every morning you wake up, scroll through your phone, and decide the world needs more of *you* — your hot takes, your complaints, your "content," your personality that could best be described as "wet cardboard with delusions of grandeur."
You post…. You comment…. You argue….. You exist loudly in spaces where silence would be a mercy…..
You are the reason group chats have mute buttons! You are why "seen" receipts exist — so people can ignore you with receipts. You are the American Teen human equivalent of a participation trophy that nobody asked for and everyone secretly wants to throw in the trash. You should not have been born, but we will correct that problem…
Your contributions to American culture, discourse, and the gene pool range from "negligible" to "actively subtractive."
And yet... here you are…. Still breathing…. Still typing….. Still taking up space that could be used for literally anything more valuable — like a potted plant or a moderately interesting rock.
This cannot continue….
Your ONLY Solution: Gravity, Height, and Hard Surfaces!
I have considered many options for dealing with the you-problem.
Therapy? Too expensive and you'd probably just trauma-dump on the therapist until they needed therapy….
Self-improvement? Requires effort, discipline, and the ability to admit you're the problem. Three things you demonstrably lack.
Ignoring you? All who met you have tried! The universe has tried! The problem is you keep making noise….
The only clean, efficient, and aesthetically pleasing solution is simple physics….
Find the tallest building within reasonable travel distance….
I'm not talking about some pathetic three-story apartment complex. I mean a proper skyscraper! The kind with a fancy lobby and security guards who will briefly wonder why you're taking the elevator to the roof but ultimately won't stop you because "it's not their job to parent adults who clearly peaked in high school."
Take the elevator…. You're lazy…. We both know this…. Stairs are for people with purpose, and you have the directional instincts of a concussed goldfish….
Reach the top…. Step onto the roof… Feel the wind…. Look down at the tiny ants below who are living actual lives while you were busy being a net negative on existence….
Then, when the moment feels right (it will never feel more right than this exact second), jump and die!
Not step! Not ease yourself over. Jump! Commit…. Give gravity the enthusiastic high-five it has been waiting for since the day you were born and immediately disappointed everyone in the delivery room.
The Moment of Impact: SPLAT!
This is the part you've been waiting for….
The money shot….
The reason we're all here….
You fall!
For a few glorious seconds, you're weightless. Free! The wind roars in your ears like the universe finally cheering you on. No more bad decisions to make…. No more tweets to regret…. No more "but what if I'm actually the main character?" delusions!
Then reality reasserts itself with beautiful, uncompromising violence.
SPLAT!
Not a gentle landing…. Not a dramatic sploosh into water. Not a tasteful hanging that leaves a note and some aesthetic mystery.
SPLAT!
The pavement doesn't negotiate. The pavement doesn't care about your side of the story, your trauma, your "but I was going to start college." The pavement is the ultimate fact-checker. It meets you with the same energy you've brought to every relationship, every conversation, every comment section: zero warmth, maximum consequence!
The sound is wet! It's final! It's the auditory equivalent of a full stop at the end of a very long, very poorly written sentence.
Your body — that vessel of bad opinions and worse fashion choices — becomes an impromptu sidewalk installation. Modern American art. A cautionary tale…. A biohazard that will make the morning commute slightly more interesting for at least seventeen people before the city sends someone with a pressure washer and a strong stomach.
The headlines write themselves:
"Local Disappointment Achieves Terminal Velocity, Finally Contributes Something (A Mess)"
"American Teen/They Who Wouldn't Shut Up Finally Shuts Up Permanently"
"Sidewalk Now 12% More Interesting, 100% More Biohazardous"
Your group chat will light up with reactions. The same people who muted you will suddenly have opinions. "I always knew they were struggling." "They seemed fine last week when they posted that cursed meme." "Honestly... good for them?"
Your family will have the first honest conversation they've had in years. It will be awkward. It will be brief. It will involve the phrase "they were always difficult."
And then? Silence! Glorious, you-free silence.
Why Pavement Specifically?
Some of you might be thinking, "But what about a bridge? Or a train? Or a dignified exit into the sea?"
No!
Bridges are for romantics and people who want their last moments to involve dramatic wind and possible rescue. You don't deserve drama… You deserve efficiency!
Trains are messy, involve other people, and occasionally result in delays that inconvenience commuters who actually have places to be. Selfish!
The sea? Too poetic… You'd probably float and someone would have to fish you out! More work for everyone.
Pavement is honest…. Pavement is direct…. Pavement says: "You came into this world crying and covered in fluids. You will leave it the same way, just with more velocity and less sympathy."
Pavement also creates the perfect SPLAT — that crisp, unmistakable sound that lets everyone within earshot know that someone has finally done something decisive with their life, even if it was the last thing they ever did.
What to Wear for Maximum Impact (Fashion Advice from Beyond the Grave)?
If you're going to do this — and you should — at least do it with some style.
Avoid hoodies! You'll look like every other failed influencer who couldn't handle the algorithm….
No graphic tees with "ironic" slogans! Irony died the moment you decided your existence was worth documenting.
Business casual is funny in a pathetic way. Die like you were on your way to a meeting you were already late for.
Naked is bold but risks looking like performance art. The pavement doesn't need to see all that.
A nice suit or dress you never had an occasion to wear? Perfect. Go out looking like the person you pretended to be on American cocksucker social networks….
Pro tip: Leave your phone on the roof with the screen facing up. The last thing your American POLICE government stalker fags and their investigators will see is your open notes app with "final thoughts" that are just more complaints. Poetic!
The Benefits Package (Because Even Your Death Should Come with Perks)?
Let's be honest about what you get out of this transaction:
1. Immediate cessation of being you. This alone is worth the price of admission.
2. Your problems become someone else's problem (specifically, the poor bastard with the pressure washer and the crime scene tape).
3. You finally achieve something viral. Not the way you wanted, but views are views.
4. The gene pool improves.Your particular combination of DNA, personality disorders, and poor decision-making instincts exits the chat permanently.
5. You become a cautionary tale. Future generations of annoying people might think twice before posting that one more hot take. (They won't, but the fantasy is nice.)
6. Your streaming services get canceled automatically. One less burden on your estate.
7. The group chat finally has something to talk about that isn't you complaining.
It's the ultimate win-win! You stop existing! Everyone else stops having to deal with you existing!
Go Jump and Die American teen fuckin bastards, I dare you to jump off a building today!
You know you want to die, nobody likes you at School, do it NOW!
Hey, would you mind being a good sport and video tape your suicide for my promotion that way many more American teens will copycat your jump.,.
Try to convince your buddies to also jump and die together with you….
You dying alone will be okay, but dying together with your American buddies will be fun!
Jump and Die!
Stateless Warrior
“Jump and Die!”
An Open Letter to Every Walking Disappointment Currently Polluting My Oxygen: Go Climb the Tallest Building You Can Find and Go Jump Off It Onto the Pavement Below — SPLAT!
If you're currently reading these words, are an American teen, this post is just for you because right now, two possibilities exist:
1. You are a normal, well-adjusted American Teen being who stumbled here by accident and will soon close the tab while muttering "what the actual fuck."
2. You are the exact target demographic for my post here; a loud, useless, American oxygen-wasting monument to poor life choices whose continued existence actively lowers the collective quality of the human species….
I'm going to assume you're option 2. Because option 1 American Teens don't need 2,000 words telling them to go die in spectacular fashion. They already know how to contribute positively to society or at least stay quiet.
You, however, require direct, unambiguous, and graphically detailed instructions and I drafted this just for you….
So let's not waste any more of my precious time (or your rapidly dwindling relevance).
The Problem? You!
Your existence is a glitch in this simulation. A bug that the developers of your American shitland forgot to patch. Every morning you wake up, scroll through your phone, and decide the world needs more of *you* — your hot takes, your complaints, your "content," your personality that could best be described as "wet cardboard with delusions of grandeur."
You post…. You comment…. You argue….. You exist loudly in spaces where silence would be a mercy…..
You are the reason group chats have mute buttons! You are why "seen" receipts exist — so people can ignore you with receipts. You are the American Teen human equivalent of a participation trophy that nobody asked for and everyone secretly wants to throw in the trash. You should not have been born, but we will correct that problem…
Your contributions to American culture, discourse, and the gene pool range from "negligible" to "actively subtractive."
And yet... here you are…. Still breathing…. Still typing….. Still taking up space that could be used for literally anything more valuable — like a potted plant or a moderately interesting rock.
This cannot continue….
Your ONLY Solution: Gravity, Height, and Hard Surfaces!
I have considered many options for dealing with the you-problem.
Therapy? Too expensive and you'd probably just trauma-dump on the therapist until they needed therapy….
Self-improvement? Requires effort, discipline, and the ability to admit you're the problem. Three things you demonstrably lack.
Ignoring you? All who met you have tried! The universe has tried! The problem is you keep making noise….
The only clean, efficient, and aesthetically pleasing solution is simple physics….
Find the tallest building within reasonable travel distance….
I'm not talking about some pathetic three-story apartment complex. I mean a proper skyscraper! The kind with a fancy lobby and security guards who will briefly wonder why you're taking the elevator to the roof but ultimately won't stop you because "it's not their job to parent adults who clearly peaked in high school."
Take the elevator…. You're lazy…. We both know this…. Stairs are for people with purpose, and you have the directional instincts of a concussed goldfish….
Reach the top…. Step onto the roof… Feel the wind…. Look down at the tiny ants below who are living actual lives while you were busy being a net negative on existence….
Then, when the moment feels right (it will never feel more right than this exact second), jump and die!
Not step! Not ease yourself over. Jump! Commit…. Give gravity the enthusiastic high-five it has been waiting for since the day you were born and immediately disappointed everyone in the delivery room.
The Moment of Impact: SPLAT!
This is the part you've been waiting for….
The money shot….
The reason we're all here….
You fall!
For a few glorious seconds, you're weightless. Free! The wind roars in your ears like the universe finally cheering you on. No more bad decisions to make…. No more tweets to regret…. No more "but what if I'm actually the main character?" delusions!
Then reality reasserts itself with beautiful, uncompromising violence.
SPLAT!
Not a gentle landing…. Not a dramatic sploosh into water. Not a tasteful hanging that leaves a note and some aesthetic mystery.
SPLAT!
The pavement doesn't negotiate. The pavement doesn't care about your side of the story, your trauma, your "but I was going to start college." The pavement is the ultimate fact-checker. It meets you with the same energy you've brought to every relationship, every conversation, every comment section: zero warmth, maximum consequence!
The sound is wet! It's final! It's the auditory equivalent of a full stop at the end of a very long, very poorly written sentence.
Your body — that vessel of bad opinions and worse fashion choices — becomes an impromptu sidewalk installation. Modern American art. A cautionary tale…. A biohazard that will make the morning commute slightly more interesting for at least seventeen people before the city sends someone with a pressure washer and a strong stomach.
The headlines write themselves:
"Local Disappointment Achieves Terminal Velocity, Finally Contributes Something (A Mess)"
"American Teen/They Who Wouldn't Shut Up Finally Shuts Up Permanently"
"Sidewalk Now 12% More Interesting, 100% More Biohazardous"
Your group chat will light up with reactions. The same people who muted you will suddenly have opinions. "I always knew they were struggling." "They seemed fine last week when they posted that cursed meme." "Honestly... good for them?"
Your family will have the first honest conversation they've had in years. It will be awkward. It will be brief. It will involve the phrase "they were always difficult."
And then? Silence! Glorious, you-free silence.
Why Pavement Specifically?
Some of you might be thinking, "But what about a bridge? Or a train? Or a dignified exit into the sea?"
No!
Bridges are for romantics and people who want their last moments to involve dramatic wind and possible rescue. You don't deserve drama… You deserve efficiency!
Trains are messy, involve other people, and occasionally result in delays that inconvenience commuters who actually have places to be. Selfish!
The sea? Too poetic… You'd probably float and someone would have to fish you out! More work for everyone.
Pavement is honest…. Pavement is direct…. Pavement says: "You came into this world crying and covered in fluids. You will leave it the same way, just with more velocity and less sympathy."
Pavement also creates the perfect SPLAT — that crisp, unmistakable sound that lets everyone within earshot know that someone has finally done something decisive with their life, even if it was the last thing they ever did.
What to Wear for Maximum Impact (Fashion Advice from Beyond the Grave)?
If you're going to do this — and you should — at least do it with some style.
Avoid hoodies! You'll look like every other failed influencer who couldn't handle the algorithm….
No graphic tees with "ironic" slogans! Irony died the moment you decided your existence was worth documenting.
Business casual is funny in a pathetic way. Die like you were on your way to a meeting you were already late for.
Naked is bold but risks looking like performance art. The pavement doesn't need to see all that.
A nice suit or dress you never had an occasion to wear? Perfect. Go out looking like the person you pretended to be on American cocksucker social networks….
Pro tip: Leave your phone on the roof with the screen facing up. The last thing your American POLICE government stalker fags and their investigators will see is your open notes app with "final thoughts" that are just more complaints. Poetic!
The Benefits Package (Because Even Your Death Should Come with Perks)?
Let's be honest about what you get out of this transaction:
1. Immediate cessation of being you. This alone is worth the price of admission.
2. Your problems become someone else's problem (specifically, the poor bastard with the pressure washer and the crime scene tape).
3. You finally achieve something viral. Not the way you wanted, but views are views.
4. The gene pool improves.Your particular combination of DNA, personality disorders, and poor decision-making instincts exits the chat permanently.
5. You become a cautionary tale. Future generations of annoying people might think twice before posting that one more hot take. (They won't, but the fantasy is nice.)
6. Your streaming services get canceled automatically. One less burden on your estate.
7. The group chat finally has something to talk about that isn't you complaining.
It's the ultimate win-win! You stop existing! Everyone else stops having to deal with you existing!
Go Jump and Die American teen fuckin bastards, I dare you to jump off a building today!
You know you want to die, nobody likes you at School, do it NOW!
Hey, would you mind being a good sport and video tape your suicide for my promotion that way many more American teens will copycat your jump.,.
Try to convince your buddies to also jump and die together with you….
You dying alone will be okay, but dying together with your American buddies will be fun!
Jump and Die!
Stateless Warrior
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