I came close once. A few years ago I held mine, loaded and ready, to my head after downing a bottle of vodka.
I felt that maybe it was time to go... maybe it wasn't. I didn't know.
Many of us here have dealt with this pain of living for so long, and I understand how you could think that it'd be so easy to just pull the trigger, but it isn't. It's just as easy as jumping in front of a train or from a great height...
Sometimes the more cognitive and paced methods allure us. Slower, less violent . . . we imagine it to be more controlled, assured, serene even.
Sometimes we want to die and then wake up like I did that following morning next to a loaded gun on my bed staring at my face, wondering whether I actually did it and am just stuck in another timeline in this endless hell.