I'm no longer "contemplating" the way I have done so many times before, and neither am I acting on impulse. I am 48, slashed my wrists (pretty badly, leaving me somewhat impaired) when I was 23. A quarter of a century ago. But all I can say is that in recent months, a calm came over me, I am really done with it all, and want out. There is no alternative anymore - and that has to do with mental and physical/health problems, complete and utter isolation from the rest of society, and simply not being able to make sense of the world around me - let alone find my place in it. There is simply no point anymore in me being here, and waking up again every day feels like a punishment. I am preparing the needed materials, getting all my paperwork and the apartment in order, everything well documented. I don't want to burden anyone. I just hope - no make that truly believe- that when I finally ctb one of these days, it's all over. I simply cease to exist and am no longer a sentient being. It's the thing that makes suicide such a paradox in my opinion - you will not be there to experience the peace, calm, and stillness. Pity. But I want my life to be over with - and am at peace with that. No doubts, regrets, or fears anymore. I feel ready. At last.