Something curious happens to me. If I had the opportunity to decide when to do it, I probably would have done it 15-20 years ago or so. The morality of your social context can push you to think things like "it's a bad thing," "your family will miss you," "it's not worth doing," and other such nonsense, which is nothing more than a mind game to prevent someone from doing it or even persuade them to do it until they change their mindset and see that life, unbearable and boring, can have its enjoyable aspects, even if they are few in relation to what is suffered.
Currently, my pet is about to die; I don't want to die before her. I would think that my father, given his age, would simply wait a few years to do it as long as he doesn't suffer for me. However, I realize something: What is it? My mind.
My thoughts seek to sabotage me, seek to make me feel like this shit—painful, unbearable, desperate—can be endured if one gets used to it; seeking to die is a nuisance. Procrastination and postponing the inevitable are also sabotage. While my pet isn't an excuse, because I love him and don't want to be by his side when he dies, he continues to fuel the idea of postponing, and so on. It may be unconscious, a mental mechanism, or simply that deep down (and indeed on the surface) I'm afraid of pain, and since death is pain, I'm afraid of death.
Do I want to die as soon as possible? Yes, but more than anything, I'd like to be realistic and know that I can do it at any time.