I have thought about ending it a few times, to check out and leave by my own terms. Sometimes it seemed like it was the only way I could control my life, that I could actually be the one who decides how my life should be.
Existential questions, the search for an identity, the sometimes conflicting nature of what I wanted and what I needed. The feeling of uselessness, the undermining my own confidence by my fears. My worst enemy staring back in the reflection of the mirror. The feeling of loathing as I caught the first glimpse, the fist tightens, and I'd find myself mumbling "I'll end you at all costs, even if that means killing myself". The purging, trying to exorcise the negativity by bleeding it out. Running out in the middle of the night through the city streets trying to drown out the noise, only being able to fall asleep through exhaustion. Waking up a couple of hours later in a bus stop, park bench and walking home defeated.
I've learned to live with my demons, for the most part they have no power over me, but they still lurk in the dark. I now look back and I'm not shocked or horrified that I ever contemplated suicide. I'm glad it was an option for me, the fact that I felt I had that choice gave me a feeling of control which otherwise I didn't feel I possessed.