What a creature of strange moods I am. In times of disappointment, rejection, or bereavement, feelings of hopelessness overwhelm me. I told my psychiatrist: "I don't like standing near the edge of a subway platform when a train is passing through. I like to stand back as far as possible to get a pillar between me and the train. A second's action would end everything."
I've no desire to quit this world, but thoughts, desperate thoughts, come into the head. Like Nietzsche I believe that the thought of suicide is a powerful comfort: it helps one through many a dreadful night.