What's the reason for why Dylan wanted to kill himself?

I don't remember reading anywhere about the real solid reason why Dylan wanted to kill himself. Did he just not like life or something?

Great question. He has been diagnosed posthumously with clinical depression but most speculate there was more going on.

He started feeling like he didn't belong here since he was 15. He cut himself and self medicated and even though Sue is an advocate for brain health, back then and i assume in that household it wasn't something that Dylan could really talk about. So he put on a mask for a really long time.

tfw no gf

Sometimes people don't necessarily have a reason to be depressed, which I think can be said about Dylan. He was an insecure teenager with a lot of built up anger and dissatisfaction, he didn't feel like he belonged anywhere, he was unhappy with himself, etc. And eventually (and sadly) these feelings consumed him

(This is my first post you guys, hi!!)

Hi!

Or maybe some people simply have more courage to die than to live.

But yeah, I agree with TroubledYouth, very well put.

Dylan was clinically depressed. He was miserable to the point where indiscriminate carnage was a worthwhile prelude to suicide.

People don't necessarily need a solid reason to be depressed.

Sometimes it's the result of trauma, whether physical, mental or emotional, or a chemical imbalance.

Given that Sue claims Dylan was neither physically, mentally or emotionally abused, I'd take a wild shot in the dark and guess there were genetic predispositions at play, though I do find it interesting as to why Byron smoked marijuana as this seems telling of his own potential depression as a teenager.

Could be wrong, however. Admittedly I find the family dynamics very interesting.

made_not_born wrote:

People don't necessarily need a solid reason to be depressed.

Sometimes it's the result of trauma, whether physical, mental or emotional, or a chemical imbalance.

Given that Sue claims Dylan was neither physically, mentally or emotionally abused, I'd take a wild shot in the dark and guess there were genetic predispositions at play, though I do find it interesting as to why Byron smoked marijuana as this seems telling of his own potential depression as a teenager.

Could be wrong, however. Admittedly I find the family dynamics very interesting.  

For Dylan, there may have been a genetic component to his mental health issues. Jeff Kass discovered that Sue Klebold had some issues in her late teens and her struggles at that time were documented in a book by psychologist, Hugh Missildine, whom Sue went to for treatment. Here is the excerpt from Kass's book; I underlined parts for emphasis.

Missildine’s most famous book is probably Your Inner Child of the Past, published in 1963. Maybe his most famous patient, the then Susan Yassenoff, shows up in his 1974 book co-authored with Lawrence Galton, Your Inner Conflicts—How to Solve Them. Susan apparently appears under the pseudonym “Sandra,” with some details of her bio altered to obscure her identity. “My father and she talked about it in front of me,” Huelsman recalls of her case study. “I think Susan was rather proud to be part of a book at that young age.”
And proud, possibly, because she successfully solved the problem that had taken her to Missildine. Although Susan does not seem to have felt proud—or at least open to talking about it publicly—post-Columbine. In a quick phone conversation, her only one with me, I told her, “I came across your profile in the Hugh Missildine book.”
“What?” she said.
“Yeah,” I reply, “in the, it was a few, quite a few years ago, the profile you had as Sandra.”
“I think you are way out of base here, I’m going to hang up now,” Susan says. She does just that.
Her lawyer, criminal defense attorney Gary Lozow, quickly called an intermediary. Lozow called it a matter that occurred when Susan Klebold was nineteen. But no further communication on the issue came my way.

This is the profile, narrated by Missildine:
Sandra is a twenty-year-old woman who came to see me because of a phobia. “I have a death phobia,” she told me. “It underlines everything I do. I think about death all the time.”
She is a music student, about to graduate from college, has been living for the past year with her fiancé and is very much in love with him, as he is with her. He too is in music.
When I asked her to talk about herself, she told me: “I’m afraid of failure. I won’t even attempt something unless I’m assured of success. I think too much. I don’t have a temper. “War things and medical programs bother me. I was terrified of bugs as a child. Airplanes used to bother me, too, and storms. My mother used to cuddle me and comfort me when I was fearful. When I was afraid, my sister would call me stupid. I scold myself for being afraid. I often feel that I’m a burden to people. I sometimes get depressed. “I think the fear of death will always be there. I wish I could turn off this part of my mind. I wish there were traumas to explain all this, but I’ve never had any traumas. When I get a headache, I’m always sure it is fatal. Then I worry that I will die, which makes the headache worse. Everything makes me think of death. I have to divert myself in the evening constantly—by eating, watching television, practicing my music or masturbating. I feel constantly that I’m coming a minute closer to death. What a waste of time to think of that all the time. But thinking this is a way of life with me.”
Questioned about her family, Sandra told me that her father had been a sensitive, sweet person who enjoyed doing things for her and whom she adored. He had died suddenly just before she had graduated from high school.
Her mother? “A saint—a real saint,” Sandra said. “She is kind, patient, never critical. When I was at home, my mother always enjoyed doing things for me and giving me things.”
Here, then, is a young woman who came from a loving home, who is in love and is loved in return, who is bright, is intelligent, is attractive, has a deep interest in music and yet is an emotional cripple. Why should she suffer so much from, and devote so much of her attention to, an almost overpowering fear of death?
We had to examine closely her childhood, the parental attitudes to which she was exposed and the child of the past she carries with her now. She grew up in a good family with wonderful parents who made the mistake of catering to her. When she had fears as a youngster, her mother cuddled her and did everything possible to shield her from the fears. But, as Sandra could recall after we had talked at some length, her mother would be exasperated with her when she was fearful.
What it really came down to was that Sandra had been subjected to three principal practices as a child: overindulgence, including coddling of her fears; oversubmission to her fearful whims; and overt belittling on the part of her mother—and sister as well—shown through exasperation and resentment toward her fears.
Now, as an adult, Sandra had continued to treat herself with the same attitudes and practices. She coddled her fears, which only tended to strengthen them. She belittled herself resentfully. Her long-term pattern of being indulged, both by herself and by her mother, stood in the way of developing self-discipline. Her lack of self-discipline made it virtually impossible for her to control herself, particularly when she was fearful.
She had to face the fact that as long as she continued to treat herself indulgently, she would have fears; they and indulgence had always gone hand in hand.There was nothing really mysterious about her phobia about death. It had grown out of her past conditioning and was being continued because she had continued to follow the conditioning. She would have to develop discipline. She would have to let the fears come, understand their origin, make sure she didn’t belittle herself about them and then continue to do what she was going to do, whether she had fears or not. As an adult, she couldn’t let the child inside force her to make activity decisions based on fears.
Not long afterward, Sandra decided to do what her fiancé had long urged: get married. She became so busy with the wedding plans that, she told me in some surprise, she was thinking less and less about her fears. That was a good indication that when her adult of the present took over from the child of the past, she could dispel the fears.
She is now much better. She is not driven by fears as she was before she started to treat herself with methods other than the old home methods of childhood. She still tends to slip back occasionally into old, indulgent, self-critical ways and to become a little fearful, but she can quickly abort the relapses.

thelmar wrote:

made_not_born wrote:

People don't necessarily need a solid reason to be depressed.

Sometimes it's the result of trauma, whether physical, mental or emotional, or a chemical imbalance.

Given that Sue claims Dylan was neither physically, mentally or emotionally abused, I'd take a wild shot in the dark and guess there were genetic predispositions at play, though I do find it interesting as to why Byron smoked marijuana as this seems telling of his own potential depression as a teenager.

Could be wrong, however. Admittedly I find the family dynamics very interesting.  

For Dylan, there may have been a genetic component to his mental health issues. Jeff Kass discovered that Sue Klebold had some issues in her late teens and her struggles at that time were documented in a book by psychologist, Hugh Missildine, whom Sue went to for treatment. Here is the excerpt from Kass's book; I underlined parts for emphasis.

Missildine’s most famous book is probably Your Inner Child of the Past, published in 1963. Maybe his most famous patient, the then Susan Yassenoff, shows up in his 1974 book co-authored with Lawrence Galton, Your Inner Conflicts—How to Solve Them. Susan apparently appears under the pseudonym “Sandra,” with some details of her bio altered to obscure her identity. “My father and she talked about it in front of me,” Huelsman recalls of her case study. “I think Susan was rather proud to be part of a book at that young age.”
And proud, possibly, because she successfully solved the problem that had taken her to Missildine. Although Susan does not seem to have felt proud—or at least open to talking about it publicly—post-Columbine. In a quick phone conversation, her only one with me, I told her, “I came across your profile in the Hugh Missildine book.”
“What?” she said.
“Yeah,” I reply, “in the, it was a few, quite a few years ago, the profile you had as Sandra.”
“I think you are way out of base here, I’m going to hang up now,” Susan says. She does just that.
Her lawyer, criminal defense attorney Gary Lozow, quickly called an intermediary. Lozow called it a matter that occurred when Susan Klebold was nineteen. But no further communication on the issue came my way.

This is the profile, narrated by Missildine:
Sandra is a twenty-year-old woman who came to see me because of a phobia. “I have a death phobia,” she told me. “It underlines everything I do. I think about death all the time.”
She is a music student, about to graduate from college, has been living for the past year with her fiancé and is very much in love with him, as he is with her. He too is in music.
When I asked her to talk about herself, she told me: “I’m afraid of failure. I won’t even attempt something unless I’m assured of success. I think too much. I don’t have a temper. “War things and medical programs bother me. I was terrified of bugs as a child. Airplanes used to bother me, too, and storms. My mother used to cuddle me and comfort me when I was fearful. When I was afraid, my sister would call me stupid. I scold myself for being afraid. I often feel that I’m a burden to people. I sometimes get depressed. “I think the fear of death will always be there. I wish I could turn off this part of my mind. I wish there were traumas to explain all this, but I’ve never had any traumas. When I get a headache, I’m always sure it is fatal. Then I worry that I will die, which makes the headache worse. Everything makes me think of death. I have to divert myself in the evening constantly—by eating, watching television, practicing my music or masturbating. I feel constantly that I’m coming a minute closer to death. What a waste of time to think of that all the time. But thinking this is a way of life with me.”
Questioned about her family, Sandra told me that her father had been a sensitive, sweet person who enjoyed doing things for her and whom she adored. He had died suddenly just before she had graduated from high school.
Her mother? “A saint—a real saint,” Sandra said. “She is kind, patient, never critical. When I was at home, my mother always enjoyed doing things for me and giving me things.”
Here, then, is a young woman who came from a loving home, who is in love and is loved in return, who is bright, is intelligent, is attractive, has a deep interest in music and yet is an emotional cripple. Why should she suffer so much from, and devote so much of her attention to, an almost overpowering fear of death?
We had to examine closely her childhood, the parental attitudes to which she was exposed and the child of the past she carries with her now. She grew up in a good family with wonderful parents who made the mistake of catering to her. When she had fears as a youngster, her mother cuddled her and did everything possible to shield her from the fears. But, as Sandra could recall after we had talked at some length, her mother would be exasperated with her when she was fearful.
What it really came down to was that Sandra had been subjected to three principal practices as a child: overindulgence, including coddling of her fears; oversubmission to her fearful whims; and overt belittling on the part of her mother—and sister as well—shown through exasperation and resentment toward her fears.
Now, as an adult, Sandra had continued to treat herself with the same attitudes and practices. She coddled her fears, which only tended to strengthen them. She belittled herself resentfully. Her long-term pattern of being indulged, both by herself and by her mother, stood in the way of developing self-discipline. Her lack of self-discipline made it virtually impossible for her to control herself, particularly when she was fearful.
She had to face the fact that as long as she continued to treat herself indulgently, she would have fears; they and indulgence had always gone hand in hand.There was nothing really mysterious about her phobia about death. It had grown out of her past conditioning and was being continued because she had continued to follow the conditioning. She would have to develop discipline. She would have to let the fears come, understand their origin, make sure she didn’t belittle herself about them and then continue to do what she was going to do, whether she had fears or not. As an adult, she couldn’t let the child inside force her to make activity decisions based on fears.
Not long afterward, Sandra decided to do what her fiancé had long urged: get married. She became so busy with the wedding plans that, she told me in some surprise, she was thinking less and less about her fears. That was a good indication that when her adult of the present took over from the child of the past, she could dispel the fears.
She is now much better. She is not driven by fears as she was before she started to treat herself with methods other than the old home methods of childhood. She still tends to slip back occasionally into old, indulgent, self-critical ways and to become a little fearful, but she can quickly abort the relapses.

Oh, yeah! I recall having read that. Silly of me to not think of that, though I suppose it's been a while since I read Jeff Kass' book. Thank you so much for this addition! I appreciate it.