For the longest time, I believed that there was no purpose for life and that being alive was a waste of time. I don’t know if I necessarily wanted to die, but I do know that nothing made me happy and I always found myself focusing on how insignificant I was. I felt like I didn’t matter to any of the people in my life and I instead was a burden in their lives. The thought of their reactions if they found out they would never see or hear from me again taunted me. Maybe it wasn’t death that would do that; I just wanted to leave far away and rebuild myself, with all of the things I considered to be so awful behind me. I felt useless. I felt hated. I thought everyone secretly hated me (plot twist, a lot of them did and their words about me, when they finally came out, didn’t really help the situation). I was completely focused on the negative aspects of my life, fully convinced that’s all it was and all it would ever be. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t happy at times, but I sure didn’t know what happiness actually felt like. Even now, happiness, true happiness, is a weird concept to me that I’m still trying to figure out. Nonetheless, I am moving further and further from that high school kid that was full of hate and sadness. I can see my life in the future. I’m no longer looking down. I have found the power to break away from the negativity and sadness that was holding me hostage. I am searching for positivity in everything and I love putting myself out there, even if it means I may get shot down. I’ve learned to take the punches that life can throw without letting my stance be broken. I want to live, I want to see what tomorrow holds, and I don’t ever want to stop moving forward.