I don't understand why I feel this way, but it's been this way a long time. I've been suicidal for almost ten years. It started when I was sad and angry and had a hard time focusing, it waned for a short while during university, but came back by the time I graduated. In the beginning it seemed I'd feel hopeless when I was depressed, and that's when the urges and feelings and ideas would take hold... but slowly over time it's... not. I feel hopeless even when I'm happy, and it's causing me a lot of confusion and pain. I have a nice apartment, a mostly good relationship, a worthwhile job that pays me a little bit more than I need to live and leaves me enough free time to do as I please, a sweet dog, good friends, and I used to feel trapped, but since I moved out of my home country, I seldom feel that anymore either. I am allergic to the sun and have mild IBS, but am otherwise in perfect health and I see myself as at least decent-looking most of the time. (IBS used to be worse, a major source of depression for me, but it's manageable now.) My life pretty much ticks all the boxes. I'm not living in luxury but I'm doing OK, and somehow it just makes it all the more frustrating that I feel like killing myself every single day. There used to be reasons for this, but now it seems so senseless. I don't understand it, and if I don't understand, what are the odds that anyone else would if I tried to talk to them? If they asked me what specifically was wrong, I'd have nothing to tell them. I just want to die. I wake up in the morning and I want to die. I walk to work and imagine jumping in front of a speeding car. I look out my office window and imagine taking the elevator to the top of a nearby apartment complex and diving off the roof. I come home at night, have a couple of drinks, and imagine taking something with the drinks that would put me to sleep forever. Nearly every day I live this way. It's been this way for years. Even on some of the best days of my entire life, I've thought about it maybe once. Even when I'm at my happiest, I think about it. Despite all of the good things, I feel useless, hopeless, and for no apparent reason. I shut people out even when they're kind to me, I hole up in my apartment and drink and surf the internet and try to come up with a way to die. My method of choice used to be jumping, and it still is, but I no longer have a place I know I can do it, and that gives me anxiety. I used to get rid of the feeling by reminding myself of the plan, and saying "just do it tomorrow." I've been procrastinating suicide for years. Now I get a lot of anxiety because in my new home, there's no plan. Is it possible to be happy and still want to die? Why don't I make sense?