In this modern age of perpetual consumption—news, entertainment, food, and endless digital stimulation—the idea of voluntarily going without feels almost...radical. Yet for the earliest...
"I could feel hot, salty tears coming down my face. I sat and cried silently... I was scrunching myself up against the wall as far as I could. All of a sudden, someone from behind us taps on the guy’s shoulder..."
In churches across America, a quiet but consequential conversation is unfolding. It often begins with a question—sometimes whispered, sometimes posted publicly on social media....
"Turns out no one is as healthy as they appear. The demons inside of me look different than the ones inside of you. I’m just a lonely intelligent dude who’s suicidal."
"The destruction path is approximately five miles long. There are approximately three homes that are devastated but no injuries, and also there is approximately a half-dozen other homes that have sustained minor to moderate damage."
Could my once-celebrated introversion be a side effect of rejection, hurt feelings, and loss? After years of being left behind, excluded, or put down, did I put on a garment of introversion like a shield to protect me from harm? I mean, man can be cruel. Sometimes it’s easier to just avoid it altogether.
It is there, and it creeps up like a silent killer. Maybe it is the wet underwear that you found floating in the hallway bathroom or the cat food that has been flung out on the floor like tiny marbles waiting to trip up a passerby or the loud thumping and yelling and tantruming as if we live in some sort of primal age where roaring and beating your chest are the only ways to get someone's attention.
