She wouldn’t have called herself suicidal. She had a good job (good but oh so boring); she was engaged to a man with an even better job (she suspected he had an affair with at least one of his paralegals); she lived in a big house (it took hours to keep clean).
She felt gloomy but she ignored it. She had no reason to complain. So she didn’t.
She wouldn’t have called herself suicidal. She’d have no explanation for why she stepped in front of the oncoming train, other than she wondered what it would feel like to stop being.