White walls were never so terrifying to me as they were that night. I sat in the small cluttered hospital administration office. It felt like the room was spinning and I couldn't believe that I was really there. I couldn't believe that I was really "one of those people". The kind of person that ended up in a place like this. Doctors and counselors and administrators kept coming in and out asking me the same questions over and over again. "Did you have a plan?" "Did you have a time planned?" Out of all of the questions they asked, the hardest to answer was "Why did you want to do this to yourself?" I mean I guess to on lookers it didn't make sense. I was a good student, I had good friends, and I was involved in clubs outside of school. They couldn't see the hell I was living inside my head. They couldn't see the anxiety I felt every single time I left my house. They couldn't see the way it hurt me to get up in the morning. The worse part, was that I couldn't explain that to anyone. I couldn't really give them a straight answer.I just kind of shrugged my shoulders. Before I knew it I was being led to a tiny room with two beds. One bed had another girl in it and the other one was about to become mine. The walls were a sickening white just like the office. There was a bathroom in our room and the mirror was just tin foil. We couldn't even have a real glass mirror. It was late at night by the time I was all checked in, so I went straight to bed.I cried until sleep finally came. The next morning I woke up to my room mate asking me why I was there and who I was. I simply showed her my arm filled with red and white lines and told her that I wanted it all to be over. She nodded and said that she was there for attacking her mom. I think that was the moment that I realized that I didn't belong in that place. I went out to the common room for breakfast. Our meal consisted of eggs that were more like plastic and a biscuit that might as well have been a rock. I met the other kids on my floor. They seemed alright at first. Then I saw what was really them. In the first day I was there we were all forced to go to our rooms and put on lock down twice for boys throwing chairs and fighting. One kid even took his pants off in a fit of anger. This was a nightmare. I wanted to take my own life more in there then I did when I was admitted. I cried every single night praying that soon I would get to go home and get back to my life. After two weeks I was released. I was given medication to take the edge off of my anxiety and deppression. At first the little blue pills made me ill. Soon though they did start to help me feel a little better. I kept going to therapy. It was a very long road but after a few years. I was finally happy again. I regretted ever wanting to take my life. I am thankful that my experience in that hospital happened because it has inspired me to become a guidance counselor to help kids like the ones I met on my journey. So, now I always remember that there is truly good in every situation no matter how bad it seems at the time.