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My Inferno Dante Alighieri once revealed to me that Hell is a matter of levels. Rings of sin stacked invertedly down to the deepest degree of paying for free will. The inscription over the gates to this place of wretchedness read, “God was moved to create Hell by “Justice”’(Inferno, Canto III .7). Yes, the perfection of God’s justice. A justice in which the Sullen choke on mud, the wrathful assail upon one another, the Gluttonous are forced to consume excrement, and so on and so forth. Sinners are damned to the same level at which they have committed their sin. So in other words one gets out of something what one puts into it. A cornucopia of common sense. Therefore, as if never attempted, I will try to explain myself as if I were Hell. A mere series of stages in which my actions and decisions placed me in different levels. And not unlike Virgil was a guide to Dante, I will guide you through the nine rings of myself, but halting somewhere in the middle for I know that I have not even begun to ponder the latter part of my existence. Our voyage begins in the first few days of my high school career, Limbo, as it were. Students being thrown into a pit of classes and grades, to fight for a direction to take