Everything seems so beutiful right before you try to kill yourself.
It's a shame I was sitting in the bathroom when I did it.
I mean who really wants to die in a bathroom?
I'm jealous of people who die in amazing places.
Like floating out to sea, or rotting in a jungle.
The tiles on the bathroom floor seemed those of royalty.
The plain shower curtain print held deeper colors than I had ever noticed.
Is it sad that right before I tried to kill myself was the only time I felt alive?
Or at least the only time in a long time.
Maybe that's why I decided to do it.
Just a waste of space.
People told me that I had so much potential.
But potential is not tangible. There's no proof of it.
The only thing that can make potential real is action.
And I had given up on myself and any form of real action a long time ago.
Every night before I go to bed I look at myself in the mirror.
Just stand there staring.
I look at the edges of my reflection.
And if I stare long enough, then they start to look blurry.
Fading away.
And after a certain period of time, everything goes away.
And I can see into myself. Everything makes sense.
And then I think of a word to describe myself that day.
Right before I tried to kill myself, I looked in to the mirror.
Hopeless.
This is my story.

I remember the first time I felt it.
I was driving home from school,
It was raining,
and my brain was running in circles.
I was stressed out from the test I took that day,
Didn't want to go to work,
And couldn't get that one image out of my head:
That look he gave me.
I wonder if he had noticed
How I took every chance I possibly could to stare at him,
To wish things could be different.
To wish he could notice, could care.
I mean I am surprised he hadn't realized it before.
I made it pretty obvious.
I had always known I was playing with fire,
But after seeing that disgusted look.
I freaked out.
What if he told someone?
It would start spreading, and people would talk
About how I actually thought I had a chance with him.
I could hear it now.
What was I thinking, liking the straightest person in the school?
I would be beaten up, called a f**.
My mind was racing.
I couldn't keep focused on the road.
The lines the car lights make when they reflect in puddles on the street
Began to move.
I wanted to end everything.
End the stress, end the worry.
A huge oak tree was on the side of the road.
I was going to run into it.
I moved my hand and began moving towards the curb,
But something internal caused my hands to jerk back,
stopped me from running into that tree.
I cried the rest of the way home.
As I pulled into my driveway I looked at my dark face
In the rearview mirror.
Lonely.

I mean, I guess my life isn't as horrible as I make it out to be.
Or at least it isn't all of the time.
However, I am still an isolationist freak, who,
Despite all evidence of the contrary,
Believes I am superior to all those around me.
It is to the point that even I find it entertaining.
In school, I walk around and don't believe how
Utterly immature the lot is.
How can I associate myself with these people?
I wish I could go to college and meet some real people,
Who actually understand the beauty of reading
By a sunny window and letting the warmth just
Engulf your body.
I don't really have many friends,
Because I don't let anyone know the real me.
I act perfect all the time:
Getting top grades in school,
Dressing in nice clothes,
Being good at sports,
And putting on a smile in order to deceive.
Because of this, most people think I am fine,
Happy.
But that is far from the truth.
This, along with the fact that I isolate myself,
Causes me to be a dysfunctional, lonely teenager.
That just wants to find himself.

"So do you believe in it?"
"Believe in what?"
"That everything in the universe is governed by chaos"
I was lying under a tree with my friend, Amber.
The grass was long enough to surround us,
Making it seem as though we were a part of the earth.
I looked over at her,
And through the blades I could barely make out
Her moonlit sillhouette.
She was staring straight up at the star-filled sky,
I thought about what she had said.
I mean, people interact with a countless number of people each day,
Who all think and do a countless number of things.
One decision could affect someone, somewhere,
As you would never expect, or never know.
People explain things in their life with
Their luck, fate, destiny,
But what if none of this exists?
What if all these things that occur are intertwined,
And the only thing that governs these occurrences is indeed chaos?
"Yeah, I believe it", I softly muttered.
She sat there staring blankly at the sky for a few more minutes.
A cold breeze brushed over the grass, making it sway in a motion,
That I swear at that moment was in accordance with the stars.
Moving with the inner soul of chaos.
"Peace in chaos".
She uttered.
"Yes, peace in chaos".

"Okay. One, two, three, four"
The one second of silent anticipation
Gives rise to a feeling of suspense,
A feeling that anything can happen,
A good feeling.
The one second before the bow
Hits the strings and causes vibrations to form into
Unseen patterns.
The trio of my viola and the accompanying
Harp and flute
Begin playing Debussy.
And my mind is at rest.
My fingers move along,
Making movements and improvisations
That I swear did not come from my mind,
And if so, from some small nook of my subconscious.
After practice, my teacher asks me if anything is wrong.
He says I have been seeming a little out of it lately.
I am fairly comfortable with him,
So I explain that I have been having trouble deciding what I truly love,
And am afraid that people will not accept who I am.
He told me to let things be.
To experience as much as I can.
And at some point in my life things will be in the right place.
And it will happen.

To this day,
I am still trying to find Peace in Chaos.
On that night when I was about to kill myself,
I sat there in my bathroom.
And as I did,
I laughed at the rug on the tiled floor.
As though its pattern of earth-colors was a language
Only I could decipher.
I knew I could not end everything now.
There is so much more to do.

I still go to school.
And still pretend.
And I am still looking for that someone to sweep me off my feet.
But I've decided I am okay with waiting.
Everyone around me is so different,
And sometimes in the most mundane situations,
Like in a lecture in history class,
I'll look around and be so overwhelmed.
The world, and the thoughts, and the feelings,
And the people.
Are just so chaotic.
Maybe my life still isn't very good.
But I have come to terms with the fact that
This is okay.
I am going to take in as much as I can.
And talk to as many people as I can.
Read as many books as I can.
Experience as much as I can.
And then.
One day,
Chaos will lead to a collision.
And everything will make sense.

After I saved myself.
I looked in the mirror.
Hope.