I've been through depression and at one or two points I guess I vaguely considered it, looking down over the campus green thinking it'd be a lot easier to jump than go through everything else I was about to go through. My cure for depression was to basically become a nazi about locus of control. I'm a little more relaxed about it these days but I think everyone, especially me, has the ability to control their own life and their own happiness. Bad shit doesn't just happen to people - they generally have some influence over their environment and most of all how they respond to it. So if I get run over by a bus driven by a drunk driver running a dead red while I was happily walking on the sidewalk - it's my own fault for not paying enough attention. At least I knew and accepted the risks of walking on the sidewalk. It's not to say terrible things don't happen, but the bottom line is that nobody else is responsible for your happiness but yourself. I also learned how to identify some of the negative (usually very self-centered) patterns of thought that had become routine for me and were contributing to the malaise. I can now check those patterns in their infancy. Cool story, eh bros? The closest actual suicide to me was this guy I knew in high school. He and I both dated the same extremely poisonous person - I actually "stole" her from him though, truth be told, I think it's more that he dumped her off on me, eager to be through with her. Scarily enough, now that I think about it, she was sort of the catalyst behind a lot of the things that ended up precipitating my own depression - though there was fertile soil there to begin with for other reasons. Anyways, he was also fertile soil for the crazy, having had an extremely fucked upbringing. Sad, as he was one of the most talented and brilliant people I'll ever know. Played D1 lax, could have played D1 football, went to Yale before transferring to UNC for lacrosse (and probably other reasons), a true math savant. Some years after HS, when I was living in Cali, I got this random call from him (I don't recall how the F he tracked me down) asking if he could crash with me for a few days. I allowed it, and this really strange few days ensued where I barely saw him. He'd be out til after I was asleep, he'd be crashed when I left for work, and gone by the time I got home. This went on for a few days until one day he was gone. I never saw him again. A few years ago, I learned he'd walked in front of a semi on an onramp in Las Vegas at 4 in the morning. Although we were never that close, I feel sort of a strange kinship with him, as though he represents a shared and in some ways similar childhood, spun off in a bad direction. It further underscores my life philosophy.