There. Said it. Not in a proud way but in the most honest way I can confess it.

It’s there for me when I’m alone. It doesn’t beat me up or remind me of my flaws and scars. It doesn’t judge. Doesn’t call me pathetic. It’s there when I’m sick of all the stresses of life, and want touch and understanding and comfort. It’s there when I can’t resist the sex drive God cursed me win. It’s there when I’m tired of holding it all together.

It doesn’t reject me.

I’ve long since I was a kid struggling with puberty and feeling filthy for God to tell me my life was worth living. I was just a kid, and I would sneak into the kitchen sometimes to hold a knife against my wrist and see if I had the guts to do it. Later, losing the fight against it in my freshman year of college sent me down a spiral where I almost killed myself. I lived, sure, but God was still a million miles away when I needed him most. Porn was few clicks away. A voice to tell me I was a handsome and smart guy and she was lucky to know me.

I know I’m so severely cynical, angry, sad, anxious, and straight up confused I could write page after page admitting my flaws. My whole life I’ve been told God is the answer to all my problems and gripes but… he just hasn’t shown any of that. He just hasn’t been any of that.

I know that actively not repenting destines me for Hell. I just hope I can make the most out of the time I’m allowed on earth. I’d like to be a dad one day, and a husband. I want to found a film studio that helps creative people deal with mental health issues. I hope to not be depressed and lonely. I miss feeling normal