Preface: This is not a pretty one. I wrote sloppy. I just needed to write and get some of the things going on in my head down on “paper.” Plus, I thought it would be helpful to share why the hell I’m moving again… for two months… at least… with no plan… so here you go… sorry in advance.

I’m not well. My best friend died, and I’m not well.

On July 28th, I got a text from one old best friend that another best friend died. Not a good reason. He was training with the military, and his heart gave out. Turns out that military trainings kills soldiers at 4 times the rate of war. Kinda crazy.

But when I got that text message, my life changed.

Here’s the deal — I made Korea a bigger deal than it needed to be. It was a dream I had been fighting for for over 5 years, it was a fresh start, but more than that, it was a leap of faith.

Jesus and I haven’t been great. It’s been rough since I moved back from Germany in 2013, nearly 10 years. It was then that my faith fell apart. But as cheesy as it sounds, I wanted to trust again, and my author brain was like, “Oh! A great story would be that I start a life over across the globe and find God by myself, again on the other side of the planet. I lost my faith abroad; maybe I’d get it back abroad.

Leading up to me leaving, some weird things started happening:

1. I read a dumb book called the Alchemist. It talks of a boy who travels the planet in search of treasure, and every moment becomes important in him finding himself, even the shitty ones. In the end, the treasure was where his journey began. And that dumb little story made me want to start believing in destiny and hope and all those beautiful things.
2. I med a great friend on a dumb app called Grindr who would talk to me about how God is in control of everything, including the shitty things, and I wanted to believe him, and come on, I met him on Grindr, of all places. Maybe God was real and orchestrated a cool meeting.
3. I thought I heard God tell me that after school it was time to fly and go off and start something new and I wanted to try and trust him again and start something new and take a risk even though I was scared.

And then my fucking best friend died a month into me living in Korea…

And suddenly it wasn’t just about losing my friend, it was about having to quit my job to come back for the funeral. And it wasn’t just about quitting my job, it was also about needing to move back to the States because my job owned my apartment. And it wasn’t just about moving back, it was saying goodbye to a dream. And it wasn’t just saying goodbye to a dream, it was giving up on a new life that I was building and proud of. And it wasn’t just saying goodbye to a new life, it was saying goodbye to a new me I was building, a me I liked. And it wasn’t just saying goodbye to a new me, it was questioning everything…

Should I have stayed in Korea? Should I have never left for Korea? Is there even a should and does God even care? Is there such a thing as destiny? If there is, what’s the destiny to my friend dying? But if there’s not destiny, is this just chaos and we just need to somehow survived? Except, none of us survive. We all die. Like my friend. So what do I do with death? With his death? With mine? With everyone’s? Is there a God that cares? If so, what the fuck happened?

And it all becomes so fuzzy and mirky and dumb and confusing, and I get overwhelmed, because it’s not just about my friend’s death, it’s about everything and nothing all at the same time, and the next thing I know, I’ve staring at my brother’s wall for the past two hours, unable to move or speak…

I’m not well. And I don’t know where to begin pulling at the treads that is this knot of confusion.

But I do know one thing: I don’t do well in Colorado Springs.

I don’t know why. I’ve got great friends here. They’ve been there for me so much. But I become something I don’t love in this city. I feel like I’m being smothered, and my natural reaction is flail and kick and scream.

I sleep with strangers. I watch far too much New Girl. I hide from friends.

I don’t like who I am here.

So I’m leaving… again… and it’s not like I have a plan. One of my other best friends (I’m very fortunate) offered their room for free, and I need to get the fuck out of here. And he’s not even going to be living in Washington for long. He’s only there till November. That gives me a month and half to figure out what the hell I’m doing with my life. Should also try and figure out what I believe, maybe (lot of fucking pressure on 1.5 months).

So I don’t know. I watch stupid TikToks where someone tells me that this is my life and I have to make it what I want. But what if I don’t know what I want? What if that’s terrifying to figure out? And what if I just really want to believe again? Like that’s something that I really want, but I just tried to trust and the floor gave out, and now I’m freefalling, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing? What about that Mr. TikTok man?

This is a weird one. I feel like my writing is hella sloppy. But it’s 12:30 am, and I can’t sleep because I’m anxious and feel a bit overwhelmed and also kinda feel like I owe an explanation to the world that I’m fucking flying all over (sorry for all the fucks), and it’s not because I have a plan; it’s because I don’t have one. All I know is that I need to get away from here, and I have no clue for how long.

Love you all. As always, thanks for reading.

PS, I started writing a memoir before my best friend died. I’m trying to finish it, mainly because it feels like one thing I can work towards, but that’s also super messy, and I have no clue how to finish it, much like my life. But that should be coming at some point. Yay…