I was raised in a Christian household, and thus believed I knew God. I lived to please myself and lived my life the way I thought would make me the happiest. I had my own townhouse, as to not live at home. I limited my interaction with others, as to not be inconvenienced. I lived with my boyfriend, a statement of independence (my confession to my fear of marriage) and unknowingly to me, my declaration of unworthiness to love. Despite my best attempts at making myself happy, I found myself miserable to the point of depression.