I'm not one for half measures or cries for attention, so the time I came close...I came close. My step father was until late last year a cop, and kept a couple firearms in the house. At my worst, I picked the lock on the cabinet he kept his handguns, and legitimately contemplated using one of them to end my life. When it comes to guns, there's generally no attempts made -- you either do it or you don't do it. Now, while my problems with depression have not come close to ending, and I'm constantly fighting the desire to die, I'm still glad I didn't end my life then. I've experienced a great deal since then, and it's things like that, that keep me going. What will happen? What's next for me? Had I killed myself then, I'd never have met the woman that I spent four years of my life with. That didn't have a fairy tale ending, but I value the experience nonetheless. Had I gone through with it, obviously my suffering would have ended, but so would everything else, like the few flare ups of happiness. I'm content in riding the few bursts of happiness. For now.