Never in my life have I been considered "normal".  I've always been real shy and nervous out in public - or, around any other human being for that matter.  When I was eight years old I began seeing things.  Now when I say "seeing things", I'm talking about stuff that other people don't usually see. Like, one night I was just sitting on my bed, thinking about stuff.  I saw a dark shadow coming past the top of the steps.  I just assumed that it was my older brother, Daniel, because the shadow was about as tall as him.  Anyways, I watched it....It was 3-d and was entirely black.  My gut reaction was "Ghost!" So I bolted down the steps (as I tend to do when I'm in a hurry) to where my mom and brother were at, and told them exactly what had
happened.  Okay, so anyone reading this might think "Yeah, but what's your point? Lots of people have seen those things..." Well, my story continues. I always considered myself to be a Christian. But when I was eleven years old, I got into witchcraft, and even tried casting spells on people I didn't like.  Little did I know that I was letting in demonic forces through all of this.
When I was about thirteen, I (once again) was in my room, and I saw a demon (and I KNEW it was a demon) looking back at me through the mirror in the bathroom.  I screamed and woke up my mom.  She stayed with me the rest of the night to make sure I was okay.  I had nightmare after nightmare after nightmare.  Nothing seemed to make them stop.  I did pray to God sometimes about it.  But I was ashamed of what I had done in the past: betraying His love to join a worldly force that only let in the devil, hanging out with ungodly people who only made my mental state worse, and trying to be someone I wasn't just to please people who I really didn't approve of.  I was seriously depressed.  On September 5, 2000, I decided that
I would truly end my depression - by ending my life.  It was just after 11:00 pm when I made that decision.  I waited anxiously for my family to go to sleep so that I could get on with my plan.  My mom kept asking me what I was doing and why I wasn't in bed myself.  I told her that I had to go back downstairs to get some water, as I claimed to be thirsty.  Well, water I did use.  Before anything else, I got back on our computer, and I sent a single "Final Good-bye" to thirty people.  After that, I went into our kitchen, got into my mom's medicine cabinet, and, took eighty-plus pills.  I was thrilled at the thought of leaving this world "once and for all."  But,
remember that "Final Good-bye" email I sent out? A man named Billy, from Texas, received it, and called the police right away.  Within fifteen minutes of my taking the pills, the police were pounding on our front door. Now by this time I had already gone off to bed.  I heard the pounding....it got louder and louder...and I was very afraid.  Afraid of what my mom would think, what my family would think, what my neighbors would think, and what I would think about myself afterwards.  I ran into my brother's room and woke him up first.   I told him what I had done. He was very upset with me.  Then my mom got up and was upset too, because she didn't understand what was going on.  The police were about one minute away from axing
down our door, because it took so long for anyone to open it.  My mom is a diabetic and
sometimes goes into a deep-sleep, so it's hard for her to wake up right away.  I was taken into the hospital within minutes.  My heart was racing, and my mom was terribly worried.  The entire time I was wondering "What am I going to do now?"  The worst part for me to deal with at this point, was that they were going to get all those pills out of my body.  The only way to do this was to vomit. And, vomit is just what I did. Only, it was NOT the average way of doing it.  Nope.  The doctors put tubes all the way down my throat and told me to calm down - this was the only way to save my life.  I was screaming because the pain of the tubes was aweful.  They poured what they called "liquid charcoal" down my throat and into my stomach.  This stuff was black and tasted terrible.  While doing all of this they pumped my stomach until, what seemed like forever, they finally decided that the pills were out of my system.  For the next six days, I was submitted into a hospital where I met other teenagers who had problems of their own.  I thought that after I got out of there, things would be fine and could go back to
normal.  Whatever normal was.  Anyways, my mom started taking me to a Pentecostal church a few weeks after all that happened.  I thought it was great.  Yeah, I finally belonged somewhere.  Wrong!  I just didn't fit in with the youth group, and it didn't seem like anyone liked me.  The woman believed it was a sin to cut their hair, or to wear anything but skirts and dresses, to wear makeup, etc.  I wasn't sure where my own personal beliefs set in here.  The following December, I got baptised at that church. I felt great.  I felt...new.  But then I stopped going there.  I just couldn't handle being around those people who's beliefs differed so much
from my own.  They thought me as a "sinner".   The following months I developed a sense of content with ungodly music.  I knew it wasn't right at all. But I listened to it anyway.  Then I got back onto the internet, where so many things had taken place before, and I went to a Christian chat room.  Even there the people seemed to be self-absorbed and ungodly.  Would I ever find real spiritual peace with myself and with God?  For SURE!  I met this awesome person I had seen a few times in a Chat room, and I emailed her.  She was very understanding with me, and listened to my every word, as I told her about my pains and how I so terribly needed some spiritual fulfillment.   She prayed with me, and told me that she would be my friend.  This helped me a LOT. It's been a little while now, but I've been staying true to God, praying everyday (usually several times a day) and have been trying my hardest to live a respectful, godly life. The kind of life that Jesus would want me to live.  And you know what else? That problem I had with seeing things? GONE!  I praise God for it, too.  He's changed my life and my entire view on the world.  The thought of ending my life before God Himself knew I was ready, will never, ever be thought of as an option in my mind again.  I am a strong believer in Christ, and I gave up everything that I had done before (like listen to ungodly music, and watch inappropriate T.V.), and it was so EASY to do! I thought it would be difficult to do, but I prayed about it, and God put all kinds of fun and interesting Christian things in my life, to take the place of the things I had been a part of before.  I now do what I can, as often as I can, to reach out to other young people, who are dealing with the types of things I had been through.  Never in my life had I thought that anything could change me the way God has.  But He has, and I am thankful every moment of my existance.