I Wanted to Be a Saint

In homeschool high school instead of trying to date girls and play video games, I read Dostoevsky and tried to become a saint. I was obsessed with the Jesus Prayer. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a sinner. I said it over and over again. I read a book about a monk in the middle ages who repeated this prayer continually, and reached a state of communion with God. Even if this monk was doing the dishes, it didn't matter, because he could easily say this prayer.

But instead of becoming a saint, I began to hate myself. I was a sinner. I did not feel close to God. I must be doing something wrong. I said the prayer more. I stayed in my room, shut the door, and prayed. I fell asleep, but I prayed more. When I woke up I prayed. I fasted. I got my belt and whipped my back. I opened the window. I shouted the prayer outside. I closed the window. Was I a saint yet? How much longer would it take?