A guy I've known through work for 4 years killed himself on boxing day, due to not being allowed to see his daughter.

And all I feel is jealousy, why does he get to be dead and not me?

A guy I knew for 20 years died in an accident, and although I can comprehend that I should feel sad, I just feel jealous. Why couldn't it have been me? Not so that he would still be alive, just so that I wouldn't have to be.

I have suicidal thoughts, ideations, plans, attempts, visions constantly. But it's like I'm being controlled by others, and they're just toying with me, waving it in front of my face but never letting me have it.

I once tried to blow my brains out, I had it planned that at a precise moment in a song I'd pull the trigger, but just as the moment arrived the "person" controlling me left, and a different one took over. I pulled the barrel out of my mouth, unloaded it and put it away like nothing had even happened.