I used to. Now when I think of dying I think of something quick and painless, letting my consciousness fade out and dispersing wherever.
But I think that part of me has been compartmentalized because I have frequent (basically nonstop) hallucinations of being tortured. It's "me" who's doing it but it's not me, if that makes sense.
I still hate myself but I don't think anyone deserves that kind of violence. Back then I used to think of my body and my personality as a "thing", like a parasite on my real being, and I wanted to destroy it. I do now, more than ever maybe, but I don't think I can take it anymore. I don't want to inflict suffering and I want it all to disappear like it was a deranged afterthought that's quickly forgotten after death.