I broke down Sunday night. I look back on it now and it feels so dumb, but I had reached my breaking point.

For the last…I don’t know how long…anyway, I feel like I’ve been so fake. I don’t like fake people. I like real people who don’t hide how they really are, but I’ve been such a hypocrite. I feel so disconnected from my faith. Most of the time I feel like I’m just going through the motions, doing what I’m supposed to do. I go to church because I’m supposed to. I read my Bible because I’m supposed to. I pray because I’m supposed to. The fire isn’t there. My passion isn’t there. I’m frustrated and I just feel alone.

Sunday night I walked into church. I stood at the back of the church for the first 10 minutes alone. I didn’t have anywhere to sit. Dumb right? So I left. I left, got in my car, and cried. I had the first real conversation with God that I’ve had in weeks, maybe months. I told Him that I felt like He had abandoned me. I felt like the mistakes I made in the past are still beating me up years later. I felt like this God of forgiveness was really just a God of punishment. I felt like I was completely alone without any one to turn to or confide in.

Three days later I still don’t have the answers. I feel better, like I got some things off of my heart that had been building. I know that God hasn’t left me. I know I’ve messed up a lot, but I also know that God has forgiven me and given me multiple clean slates.

This whole post is one big gripe fest. I don’t let myself dwell on being “alone” too much because most of the time I don’t consider myself alone. But the past few weeks have been really hard. Everyone else has moved on with their life and I feel stuck in my teen years. Anyway, sorry to anyone who reads this. Just needed to get a few things off of my chest.