From beneath the tree, I can see it. The world around me swirls like all the insanity it has ever shown me to be. A mix of colors swirl around me, a kaleidoscope never stoppin' its spin. 

It feels like I'm standin' on waves, and I now feel sick because of it. My heart is poundin' for no reason in particular. I'm sweatin', too. Nothin' makes sense anymore. Not me, not the world.. though, I never actually understood how that worked. That's why I'm here now, isn't it? Standin' beneath this tree. 

It's a bit cold out, the sun is goin' down. I can see it, burnin' into the horizon. It looks like a fire is startin' out there thanks to it. The barley field shinin' golden. It's almost beautiful. I feel calm now. Not like before, when I would be locked away in my house. My ma' would call for me to come downstairs and actually do something, instead of wastin' away in my dark little corner. She didn't understand me, I don't even understand me. Honestly, people always told me I had nothin' to be sad about. It's true. I have a good life- a good home. People who care about me.. so why do I feel this way? That pain in my chest, the one that causes it to squeeze really tight until I can't breathe. It hurts, and I cry cause of it. I don't like it. I don't want it anymore. 

If I'm bein' truthful, I can guarantee I'm doin' everyone a favor. No one will have to deal with my crap anymore. Not the ups or the downs I experience, not even all the failures I managed to build up, hidden beneath my belt buckle. They'll be happy, and so will I. I won't hold them back anymore, and I won't put myself through anymore needless pain. That's okay, right? 

If I was religious, I'd say a couple of prayers. I don't know any though, I used to- back when I went to church every Sunday with my folks. When did I stop goin'? I can't remember. It's the same with the prayers they taught. How did they go? Our father who art in heaven? Somethin' like that. Oh well, our father who art in heaven won't be seein' me either. I don't think he'll let someone like me in his house, or wherever he lives. Is it the clouds? Either way, I'm fine with that. I don't really believe in that sort of stuff.

I think that's enough thinkin' now. I'm wastin' time. I sort of have this plan to 'go down with the sun', if you catch my meanin'? It's goin' fast, and I'll have to move quick now if I want to keep up. 

I climb up the rickety old stool I took from our shed. It's smaller than I remember, when I last sat on it, it was when my pa was workin' in the shed, makin' a new coffee table for ma'. I think he only like buildin' stuff 'cause Jesus was said to be a carpenter or somethin'. He wants to be as close to God as possible, I guess. Poor old pa. Our old one kind of broke thanks to our great dane, the big old goof ball was extra jittery one mornin' and decided to run around the house. He crashed into our coffee table and broke off its leg. I kept gettin' splinters every time I walked around with no socks on in our livin' room. I think I must have been around nine when I watched him work while sittin' on this old stool. 

I take in a breath, and I'm makin' sure to savor it. It's goin' to be my last one, so might as well. I look up and see the noose I made, I only hope its sturdy. The rope is old and I'm not too sure I tied it right. I looked up directions on how to do it on the internet. I made sure to delete the browsin' history, too. Poor dad is going to be under a microscope by ma for a bit. It slips around my neck easily enough, it's a bit tight, but that's what it's supposed to do, right? I can feel my heart heart beat really fast again. Darn it. I wanted it to be poetic by remainin' calm while doin' this. Like you see on T.V with those tragic figures, y'know? I even made myself up by puttin' on my best dress and everythin'. Okay, there's no helping it. They'll never know I was afraid anyhow. 

I let the stool slip from beneath me, and immediately I feel pain as I dangle up there. Seriously, it hurts. Like, there's so much pressure it feels like my head is goin' to explode. I'm tense and now I'm thinkin' this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe pills would have been better? Is it still too late to change tactics? It would be so much better to find a beautiful girl laying on her bed, lookin' peaceful and calm- all while holdin' the bottle of pills in her hand. Like Marilyn Monroe. Dang it, should have done that instead.. I twitch my legs a bit, and I can feel myself slipping. I'm goin' now, this is it. Should I say my last words? It'll be hard to get it out with this stupid rope around my neck but.. lets see. Nah, I can't really think right now. It won't happen.

Everythin' is spinnin' all a sudden, and I'm on the floor. What happened? I look up and see, my darn noose snapped. The rope was old that's why.. huh. What the hell. That didn't work out to well. Jesus, I have a headache. I can't stop coughin' either. That is a painful way to go. Maybe I'll just go home for now, rethink my options here. I suddenly have the urge to take a shower, maybe watch some football with my dad. I'm cravin' my moms cooking, too..

It's cold. So I think I'm going to go home, but first I have to clean up the rope, and bring the stool to the shed. I need to dig out my old turtle neck shirts as well.. I'll have bruises for a while. Maybe tomorrow I'll walk my dog, grab an ice-cream in town. I'll also stop by my crushes house, maybe tell him I like him. There's a lot to be done before I try again, after all. If I even try.