Years later, I found myself staring out of a high school window, wondering how I ended up in an abusive relationship with a girl that I knew didn 't love me. That scene wasn 't uncommon for me as it had gone on for most of my adolescent life. As a teenager, I considered myself misunderstood and alone. It felt like I was compressed into a small, dark box that was chained shut and placed in a bigger box with a padlock, and that box was in a dark closet that was locked in a small room that resided in the dark house that was haunted by the ghosts of my abusers. Through a small little hole in my box, I could see a light. To get to that light I would claw my way of the box, only to find that when I made it out of one box, I was locked in another. That hopeless feeling of fighting and not getting anywhere is depression. …show more content…
trying to keep the façade of being happy was too much and I just didn 't see the point in fighting anymore. The light was teasing me just outside of my prison and it was clear that I could never touch it. In my depression, I turned to self-destruction. I cut myself, I drank, I drowned myself in meaningless relationships with people of all ages and genders to try to cover the pain I felt, my goals were to forget that I was still locked away in my jail cell. I attempted suicide twice to escape. When I wasn 't attempting my death, I was planning it, and I had a beautiful casket picked out. I swore that one day I would have the nerve to carry it out. My death would show all of those that used me and abused me that I wasn 't cheap. I wanted nothing more than to haunt them like they haunted me. Despite the pain and the sorrow, God had a plan. In my last year of high school, I met a girl named Jenna. She was a Christian, and she invited me to her church. I decided to go and to bring my