This is extremely relevant to me so I'm going to answer fully.(Be forewarned that I have tonight fallen off of a 3-year sobriety wagon exactly 4 hours ago.) The last time I had a concrete plan to kill myself was a little over 3 years ago. I bought a gun, wrote a note, set a date, and made my peace. I had been completely numb for several years already and I wanted one last adventure. If you would like the full story you can check my top submission of all time, but I'll give you the highlights;
I took a road trip with a known violent sociopath (and semi-friend) to buy drugs from a nearby (ish) town. Despite my own pacifistic (cowardly) tendencies, this road trip resulted in me being involved in an attempted armed (ish?) robbery of a hotel. I evade the police and eventually wind up in a hotel room that I paid for legitimately. What I don't mention in the full story that I've published here on Reddit before is the true ending. I still had the knife given to me by my "friend," Kyle and after finding that I can't sleep I spend several minutes (or hours?) staring at myself in the hotel-bathroom mirror after I've made the first cut vertically on the inner elbow of my left arm. It bleeds so much. Wayyyy more than any other cuts I've made; and I realize for the first time that yes; I can actually kill myself. I have the will to do it. Finally. But that night....That night when I fucked up my entire life and relegated my future to bullshit jobs for pitiful wages...For one or two hours; for the first time since I was 13 years old, I felt ALIVE. Not happy, of course; the entire experience is a nightmare that relive every week or so, but god-fucking-damn-it when I those cops were chasing me with shotguns I WANTED to be alive. I wanted to see how far I could go. I wanted to test my luck and cunning against these men and their dogs and I wanted to WIN. I guess I did.
I didn't get away with it, of course. I turned myself in after the meth and the xanax and the alcohol wore off, but I remember the feeling. I remember what it's like to want to live. That's what I tell myself. That's what I told myself 3 years ago staring into my own eyes with blood running down arm and soaking my pants 3 years ago. And that's what I told myself tonight staring longingly at the exit-bag that I've lovingly crafted. I REMEMBER wanting to survive, and I hope that I can feel that way again.