I remember sitting on the floor of my best friend Baylee's bedroom for a couple of months during my brother's coma, just dancing and telling her “I'm done. I stopped worrying. I just want to do what I want to do. What's the point of worrying anyway? because we clearly never know what will happen to our lives. Baylee's bedroom was the only place I had ever felt so vulnerable, to the point where I told her what I hated and thought most. “I believe Jesus is real but he is not in my life,” telling her this made me feel more alone than I had ever felt in my life. Admitting it out loud made me realize there was no hope left