Not really, but there’s a lot of space between “suicidal” and “not suicidal”. It’s not like one or the other.
I’ve done self-destructive things that were not really intended to kill me, but like… I don’t actually care if I die. I would be completely fine with it. I care about hurting someone else and about property damage and about losing my cognitive function, but not dying. So like “you could die!” isn’t much of a deterrent for me.
And when everything seems lost anyway, sometimes something that makes you feel a little bit better right now is worth it. Because if you die, who gives a shit? And if you suffer long-term consequences… well, you’re pretty sure you’ll kill yourself by more conventional means way before that ever happens anyway and if you don’t, it’s always an option. It’s not like you HAVE to live with lung cancer because you don’t particularly have any attachment to living at all.
I don’t smoke, btw. It’s never held much attraction for me. I do see the attraction to hard drugs, though, and have had many days when it’s probably good that I don’t have a source. Because any temporary escape would be better than this and it’s kind of a compromise between just enduring it no matter how agonizing it is and killing yourself, which is so messy and disruptive and makes your sister cry forever. Or channeling your distress into starving yourself or numbing it by alcohol or eating or spending money… when every other second of every other moment is somewhere between desolate greyness and soul-deep anguish, but french fries or cigarettes or heroin or sex or running til you drop or driving too fast give you a moment of calm or pleasure or triumph or anything other than just wishing there were a way to fade away without anyone having to pick up the pieces, of course you’re going to take it. Doesn’t matter if you know better and know it’s a bad idea and not really going to fix anything. It’s not fixable anyway, so sometimes the best you can hope for is something to help you through this moment.