For as long as I can remember, my parents took me to St. Anthony of Padua's Church every Sunday. When I was younger, I had no idea what Father Iglesias preached about during the homily, nor did I understand the verses of the psalms and offertory songs we recited. Then again, what child would? As far as I know, the Bible touches on issues that most adults don't even understand. So then how could my mother, a devout Catholic expect me at the age of five to understand why Jesus of Nazareth died for us? How could I understand what a burden it was to have someone mock you and nail you to a wooden cross?

Even now, I'm not entirely sure of what I believe in. There are times when I believe that there is a God--or some kind of all-powerful being, for that matter--watching over us, helping us to make the right decisions in life. Likewise, there are times when I believe that the Devil walks among us, hoping to drag us into Hell. Of course, there are times when I think all of this is complete bull#*!$. Sure, historians and researchers have discovered few articles of evidence that proves Christ was indeed alive, but I still have my doubts.

Maybe it was a miracle of God or just pure luck but I have to admit, I never once thought that I would be lucky enough to be here right now, writing this story. Of course, I have a lot of people to thank but I'll get to that later. Now, I have to start at the beginning.

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Michelle Fernandez grew up in a primarily Catholic home, and even attended Catholic school for nine years. However, this doesn't mean that she doesn't question her faith.

Now, at the age of sixteen, Michelle recounts her previous years circling around religion, drugs, sex and abuse.

updated Sep 7 '11 by nanatan