This time last semester, I would never have guessed that I'd be where I'm at now. Over the past several months, beginning in late summer and reaching out till now, so much has happened. I went from being forever-single to having been through three different relationships. I went into the fall semester of my sophomore year with brilliant hopes; I thought it would be the best semester of college thus far. It looked like that was the case at first, but in a single Sunday evening, everything went to hell. While it was but a pinprick, it set off an avalanche--an avalanche of bottled emotions, hidden fears, and buried pains--that swarmed over me, leaving me bloody and broken. At times I had to scrounge for a mere breath to stay alive. Thousands of questions and doubts about everything I'd always believed assaulted me. Cognitive dissonance--when perceived reality does not match actual reality--reformed my outlooks on life, relationships, and even altered some of my theology. It was a painful time with many tears.

Then a light blossomed on the horizon. I had not come out of the valley, but I could see the fog lifting. Joy sparked within my heart, and I believed that I was finally coming to the end of the great trial. However, one Sunday evening a few weeks ago, I found myself again laden with regret, sorrows, and an unimaginable weight of despair. The light seemed to fade into the shadows, and I felt completely cut-off from hope once more.

Then I started getting counseling. My family and friends recommended it, and I did so. I hoped that counseling would make the light return in an instant (a foolish hope, but we all have such foolish hopes). However, this counseling--at times--only seems to make things worse. All the buried memories and agonies are being brought to the surface. I have to live through all the pain again. Pains I'd all but forgotten--pains that began in my junior high years--are coming to light, and I am beginning to see the huge affect it's had on my life. Nevertheless, it's SO hard, and sometimes it seems rather counter-productive, but I'm going to stick through it. What have I got to lose?

Revelations have been striking me from every direction. Revelations about my life. Revelations about God. Revelations about what in the world I'm doing here. Some are difficult to stomach; others are heartwarming. A realization came to me about an hour ago, and it tore my heart out. Any silent, hidden hopes and dreams that had been buried came to the surface and were instantly pulverized. They lied smoldering at my feet as the realization rooted itself deep within me: "There's no hope."

Yet I clasp onto hope. I wrap my fingers tight around it. Sometimes it feels like barbed wire: the harder I squeeze, the more pain it causes me. But I refuse to let go.