I have yet to determine whether the world is inherently chaotic or whether the universe functions in organized, repetitive patterns—a system echoing that of nature, history, and the human mind.

What is it that causes cruelty in this world? What is it that drives man mad? Are these predetermined and set, carved in the stones of time, or are they random and of a more deranged nature?

We talked about suicide in class today. We talked about depression and anxiety and trauma and what it feels like to feel alone and unwanted by society.

I know these feelings well.

My head went to a dark place, then. The place that numbs you from the inside out, except your soul—your soul feels cold. Flashbacks of the painful memories stored in dusty boxes in the back of my mind surfaced.

When I walked home from class I didn’t wear my headphones.

I looked up at the sky. The sky was blue. What an amazing thing it is to be able to perceive color.

I remembered the sunrise this morning, and how the birds hoorayed its existence.

I watched the trees dance in unison and their yellow leaves lay down to die.

I realized something today, something so magnificently obvious yet so astonishingly taken for granted.

I am alive.

I don’t want to die, not today. Maybe in the future when I am old and tired and have given all I have to give. But today, I want to walk over the leaves and feel them sigh beneath my weight. I want to look both ways before crossing a street. I want to see the tiny insects hard at work and feel my skin react in faint protection to the chilly, fall breeze. I want to hum "Blackbird" and hear it echo under tunnels. I want to brush my fingertips against tree limbs as I walk past. I want to go home and drink something warm and watch the sun dip down in ceaseless lethargy.

I want to be a part of this world, and all of its glory, kindness, pandemonium, obscurity, liveliness, lifelessness, dreadfulness, beauty, and everything in between.

This place can be cruel—trust me, I’ve seen cruelty. And trust me, it gets better.

I am made of organic matter. I am made out of molecules and skin cells that constantly regenerate; my epidermis is always moving, shedding, and changing. The oxygen of the outer world consumes me—as I, it, and my cells slowly (but surely) burn to death by the same thing that keeps them alive.

Life and death are interlocked: star-crossed lovers.

We will all die eventually, but dying is not the point. The point is to live. Unfortunately, living often involves suffering, but all suffering ends. Be patient. Look around you. Go for a walk. Drink a hot cup of tea. Eat an ice cream sandwich. Pet a kitten. Listen to music that gives you goosebumps. Breathe.

Just breathe.

Because this, too, shall pass.

And life is so, so beautiful.

You are not alone. You are loved. You are alive.

Be strong, fight back against evil. Fight back against whatever holds you down. You will win this battle.

Don’t be afraid to get help, never be ashamed of a mental illness, emotional turmoil, or anything else keeping you from reaching your full potential.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1 (800) 273-8255