I know. I know now life is not even close to the books and fan fictions that I read. You will never have the perfect life. Perfect guy. Perfect house. Perfect family. But it’s yours. It’s your story; all unique and only. I used to believe that. I used to believe that if it wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t right. I was doing something wrong. Living a double life in church and home. I love God. Yeah, because I am still here and he still loves me even though I screamed hateful things. Maybe I am going through this because I have a purpose like my dad says. What am I looking for? I am still not satisfied. I choose to be this way, but why? What am I getting out of this? I thought I was insane. I somehow adored sadness and grief, thinking it was okay. I would force myself to be sad for stupid things. . My mom loves me. My dad loves me. They would die for me in a heartbeat. And I’m grateful for all that. I can still survive. I am drowning but I am reaching the surface, even if it feels like it’s getting higher. It’s okay. I relapsed. But I can choose this to be the last time I do. I survived. Now it is time to start living. God is so great, man.