That, to me, is depression in a nutshell. None of us wants to die, we just want the pain to go away. Sadly, when the pain gets so great that it overwhelms everything else, dying is the only thing that seems to make sense.
“To sleep, perchance to dream — ay, there’s the rub, for in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause.”
There have been times in my life when Hamlet’s words have been the only thing that have kept me alive. What dreams, indeed, may come, when there’s no awaking from them?
“Thus doth conscience make cowards of us all.”