I've been passively suicidal my whole life. For instance, I'd have no qualms about going to bed tonight and not waking up again. Heck, that'd be like winning the lottery as far as I'm concerned. I'd say it's been about 8/10 years at least where suicide, or just death in general, has been one of the most foremost thoughts in my mind. I can't recall experiencing a time where my wish for suicide ever wavered. As time goes on, and life beats me down harder and harder, my desires for death and release from this fleshly prison of flaws I call a body can only increase exponentially, further entrenching the certainty I've already long harbored on suicide. If I weren't such a gutless turd, I would've had my brains smushed on the train tracks long ago. Every year that passes where I don't kill myself, is a year I wish I had never needed to endure. One of my biggest fears, in fact, is that I'll never kill myself and that I still have an entire lifetime of suffering to endure through with no trapdoor out of it. If this is so, then the only regret I'll ever have in my entire existence is that I never managed to kill myself.