In better moments, because I know it's what I call "cranky brain": the voice isn't real, and I'm seeing medical professionals to try to fix it.

In worse moments, it's because humans are inherently social, sentimental creatures. That I cause suffering to other people seems inevitable, but I strive, more or less, to minimize the amount of suffering I cause as much as possible. Suicide has terrible social effects, full stop. It damages survivors, acts as a contagion in communities (I believe the number one predictor of whether there will be a suicide in a school is whether there has been a suicide there recently). The ideal circumstance would be to have not existed at all, but regardless of how I feel about what benefits or detriments my existence has on other people's lives, it's an unfortunate fact that people attach tremendous meaning to other people just by virtue of them existing--hell, they do it to their pets. They name their robot vacuum cleaners so they can anthropomorphize them. At any rate, since non-existence isn't an option, the ripple effects of removing me now outstrip the benefits that removing the burden of my existence would have. Socrates says in the Gorgias, "It's better suffer a wrong than to commit a wrong." So on those days it's just a matter of knowing I'm suffering for something more important than me.