The tears streamed down from my face, and the phone fell from my hand. I couldn’t believe the words I had just heard. Why the hell is the world so cruel? How can it throw such a curveball at one so young. Where is my God and why did he leave me? The cruelty of he who promised not to forsake me! Was it a test?

Why else would he put me in this situation of great uneasiness. I of young age knew not how to deal with the potential death of someone I had only known for 2 days. Why? Why must I bear that burden? I could not just cast her aside! That would not be the Christian thing to do, and so I stood firm.

As she woke from her drug induced slumber, the potential suicide had been thwarted. I spoke to her everyday, knowing her as only the one who I had begun an adventure with that I could not step away from. The psych ward whose walls held her became my own prison, I slaved during the hours in which visiting occured.

This secret of her existence, must I keep it from my parents? I think yes.

The days wore on and the phonecalls continued, as I poured my soul into this girl I barely knew. She was sick in the head and had just been diagnosed with Bipolar disorder, something I would become all too familiar with.

When she left the ward, she seemed fit, ready to take on the world. I by her side promised to help her tackle her problems. When we could meet things were glorious, I was having the time of my life and I was smiling back at God. He smiled back.
My friends thought she was amazing as did my parents, and then the relapse occured.

The call in the middle of the night, the blood flowing down her cut wrists. My heart was splitting into a million pieces, what could make one do this to oneself? I could not understand, was this my fault? I consoled her, I told her I loved her. She told me that she had cheated on me. I told her it was alright, I was hurt but I wanted to fix her before worrying about myself.

My mother heard my sobs, and heard the parts of the story I could bear to tell her. This girl you see was a Mormon, and when my mother found this information out the gates of Hell burst forth and the lecture stung my ears. She would be going to hell I found out, she was a heathen, a tramp, a harlot and a whore. Not worthy of the glory of God simply because she picked wrongly!
Why would he do this? Why would he send them all down without a chance, not even a conversation? How dare he! I was angry with the Lord my God.

The cutting continued, the cheating came forth, the blood covered my hands as well and my heart was ripped apart. In total the times I had been ripped due to infidelity was 5, and the cuts numbered in the double digits.
I was emotionally drained, and my entire life was wrapped into this girl, I cared for her more than I cared for myself. I prayed and prayed, I visited the pastor, and recieved the same response as my mother.

Why were they so ignorant, why did they hate her? Why would God be such a cruel cunt? And then it made sense, it was because he was not real. This fell upon me like a ton of bricks. He was not real, he had not forsaken me, he was nonexistent. There was no hell, just intolerant human beings. There was no way to fix her myself, God could not save her.

I became jaded, angry at the world, angry at my parents. I tried to hold her together, and so she became fixed. The day her problems ended was the day she left me behind. Her pains were transmitted to me, I became her Jesus Christ, and I suffered for her.
The nihilism was strong, the meaningless overwhelming. The depression came forth next and it was very compelling.

I realized that Jesus Christ, though he may not be real, is a powerful symbol of selflessly sacrificing oneself for one that they love.
Moving forward is a must, though scars we will always carry, reminders of the past telling us to never forget but to learn from our mistakes.

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