I was 12 years old the first time I thought about killing myself. I walked into my parents room for some mundane purpose and suddenly remembered that my stepdad kept a hunting rifle in the closet. I wondered if it was loaded, or if anyone would hear me. I wondered who would find me. I didn't want to leave a mess. 

That thought kept me alive for a long time. Once, many years later, I tried to kill myself with a different gun in my parents' room. It was not loaded. 

As an adult, I don't keep guns in my house. I still think of killing myself sometimes. It's just a weird mental tic I live with.