Finding a Better Faith by Teenangel Lisa

I thought I had met my dream guy. I really did. Now, I see where my mistake was, sure. It was in having too much faith. Faith in love, faith in people, faith in happiness. I was told to have these kinds of faith my whole life by my parents, teachers, books, movies, and songs. I was told that this sort of faith would make my life happy and exciting. But no one ever tells you how dangerous faith can be.

When I was a freshman in high school, I was miserable. I lived in one of those towns where the same kids are in your grade all the way through school, so everyone gets to know each other pretty well. They knew me in middle school when I had acne and bad clothing and was shy and self-conscious. And then I grew out of that, but no one much noticed. I know I was pretty in the year or two before I died because people started noticing me – people who didn't go to my school, who didn't remember how I used to be awkward.

And it felt good. I felt different and happy and hopeful. I thought to myself that maybe now I would have a boyfriend. Maybe he just couldn't find me before because I was shy and awkward, and it'll definitely happen now that I'm in high school and all the older boys can see how pretty I had become in the last few years. But it didn't. No one looked at me any differently than they ever had and I got depressed. I thought to myself that high school might just be middle school again – that maybe nothing would be different and I would have to go through three more years of being lonely and waiting until something better happened. For a while, I got resigned myself to this fate and then something changed and I got up one morning and said no. I think I said it out loud, actually, it's kind of funny to think of now. I decided that I would say no to this fate – that I wouldn't be alone and I wouldn't be miserable – not anymore. I decided that I would meet someone and I would have a boyfriend within a month or two – do or die – that I would take my life into my own hands. And that I did.

I started going online and searching for people to talk to – people who would be more mature and would understand me. I sorted through people's profiles on Friendster and MySpace.com and set up my own. And then I met someone, and it was just as easy as I ever dreamed it could be. We IMed for hours, about everything and I felt, for the first time, that someone really understood me. Sounds pretty silly now. We talked about our families, our dreams, books that had changed us – everything. I thought I was falling in love.

When he asked me if I wanted to meet, at first I said no, that I didn't know him well enough. He didn't push it, and instead, we started talking on the phone. He had a very deep voice, which didn't surprise me because he said he was 18, but it probably should have. Anyway, a month later he said he had to meet me. He said he couldn't' stand it anymore – that he loved me – and said that if I wouldn't meet him he would come find me because if he didn't see me he'd die. In the end, it didn't quite work that way, though.

I realized that my parents would kill me if a random guy showed up at the house looking for me. I couldn't have that happen, so I agreed to meet him. It was stupid, I know, but I was told more time than one that it's okay to do stupid things when you're in love.

I met him at the mall, in the food court. He was 32. I started crying and told him that he lied to me and I never wanted to see him again. He started crying and told me that he loved me so much – that he knew I would never date him if I knew how old he was, which is true. I said I was going to leave and he started making a big scene – sobbing and yelling and I was afraid someone I knew or who my family knew might see so I agreed – his last request – to go outside to talk. He said he had a present for me in his car, and could he just give it to me. I said ok, probably the stupidest thing anyone's ever done. He pushed me in his car and kidnapped me. He took me someplace and tied me up and raped me, crying and telling me he loved me the whole time, and I felt like my insides were being ripped out. That was how I lost my virginity.

I still feel like its all my fault. Why did I believe him? Why did I believe that anybody normal could be that into me? Even after all this time, the only answer I can come up with is that I had too much faith. If I hadn't wanted to fall in love so badly, if I hadn't needed someone wanting me to validate how I felt about myself, I wouldn't have let my judgment get clouded. I would probably be alone in my room, depressed, but I'd be better off than I am now.

So have faith and be hopeful because life would be too hard without it. But don't let it cloud your better judgment. Have faith in yourself and don't waste it on people who may or may not love you or save you or complete you. And don't trust people – at least for a while, at least till you know who they really are and what they are capable of. Love and loneliness don't excuse stupid behavior, and they certainly don't buy you another chance to fix it.

I will never know what could have happened in my life – who I could have met or what I might have done, because now I'm dead. He didn't only take away my life, but my chance at happiness – I'll never know if I could have made it. I never got a fair shot. If you're in the same situation I was in, I can't say if it'll ever get better, or if you'll ever be successful, or rich, or pretty, or lose the weight, or get the guy, but I can say you better hang around and try, because I'd do just about anything for the chance to know if I could have been happy.

Teenangel Lisa