Hannah Waddell, 15, attends Flowing Wells High School.

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I always remember believing in God. But I thought He was just a guy, far away, kind of hanging out. After my parents divorced, my dad left us, remarried and moved to Michigan. On the outside, I pretended that everything was OK, but on the inside, I just wanted to escape. I felt completely abandoned and unloved by my father, and my self-esteem took a nose dive.

I would wake up in the morning and before I'd go out to the bus, I'd look in the mirror and tell myself, "No one cares about your problems, so suck it up."

The loneliness and emptiness I felt made everything about me seem ugly and pathetic. I hated my glasses, my "wanna-be" attitude and how I'd constantly second-guess myself after every conversation. I was angry at my parents, but I was afraid I was becoming like them — irresponsible, immature and selfish — so I tried to distract myself by diving into school activities.

During that time, I had huge accomplishments. I was vice president of the National Junior Honor Society, student body treasurer, and I maintained a high grade-point average. But I beat myself up emotionally and physically because I knew I was never going to be good enough. Not good enough for God, not good enough for school, not good enough for my dad because if I were, he would have never left me. I couldn't stand feeling like I was failing everyone around me. Something needed to change.

I was searching for a moral structure outside of my parents' beliefs, because I felt they had let me down. I felt I should have been able to prevent my family's disintegration. I drew closer to God and started to have faith. I began to devote my life to Christ, and along with that came abstinence.

Abstinence is like my firewall. A place to hide behind and protect myself from the suffering I've already been through. The way I look at it, if I were to get pregnant now, the odds of staying in a relationship with the boy who got me pregnant would be pretty slim. I wouldn't want to put my child through the same pain and feeling of abandonment I went through when my dad left.

Other teenagers snidely insinuate that I will never be able to abstain from sex until marriage. In an MTV-driven world where kids hear and see every day that abstinence isn't a real possibility, I stand firm in my belief that it is. I used to just want to fit in and get others' approval, but now I find that I don't mind standing out. Being abstinent has taught me that I'm not just "good enough," I'm wonderfully made.

To me, being abstinent means respecting my body. I've already been hurt by one person in my life, and I don't want to get hurt again. Having sex with someone other than your spouse is getting on an emotional roller coaster. Sex is the highest level of intimacy couples can reach, and I don't want to share that intimacy with someone I won't be with for the rest of my life.

By being abstinent, I'm protecting my heart from breaking.