sugarrush-77

Yena had her head clasped between her hands. Sighed, looked up at Janice.

“Janice.”

“What.”

“I’m so lucky to be chasing my dreams. So few people get to do this. But it’s also risky, y’know?”

Yena took another shot.

“Sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing with my life. Why I even try anymore. I know chasing your dreams is supposed to be hard, but I didn’t know it was this hard.”

Janice nodded.

“I feel like I’ve hit a wall. An insurmountable wall. And it feels… so hopeless, y’know?”

A tear dribbled down Yena’s cheek.

Janice sighed.

“Yena, no matter how much you bitch and cry, you’ll never be able to marry Kasane Teto. She doesn’t fucking exist.”

Yena screamed in lowercase.

“NO! YoU can’t sAY THAT! NONONONO”

Janice rolled her eyes. Yena was saying crazy shit again. But it was fine. It’s what made her so entertaining.

“Yena, even if Teto existed, she wouldn’t like anyone like you. You’re stinky, 3 foot 10, insecure, and clingy. When’s the last time you had a shower? I can smell your pits from HERE. I had to take a smoke break earlier just to escape the waft coming off of your jacket.”

Yena took heaving breaths, and braced herself.

“TETO. IS. MY. WIFEEEE!!!!!”

Everyone in the restaurant stared. Janice left for another smoke break. Yena took another shot and kept eating the raw tofu in her plate. Yena was fucking autistic. They were at a Korean tofu stew joint, and she had insisted to the waiter, despite being told no multiple times, that she deserved. Absolutely deserved. Being served the tofu stew deconstructed in its entirety. She was a regular here. The waiter ended up shrugging, and ferrying the request back to the restaurant. Five minutes later, he came back with a raw egg, tofu, hot water, kimchi, and tofu stew base. He whispered an expletive under his breath, and swore that if she didn’t tip, he would kick her through the window.

Janice came back. Nobody knew why Janice hung out with Yena. When asked, Janice never gave a straight answer. Sometimes, she said it was because she needed help with homework, but they were in completely different majors. Sometimes, she said it was because she was really poor, and Yena had helped out with money once. But Janice was loaded from various side hustles she’d spun up “for fun.” Sometimes, Janice just shrugged and looked up at the sky. Nobody really knew except her. Janice sat down in front of Yena and leaned in.

“Yena, what if I dressed up as Teto? How do you think that would make you feel?”

Yena frowned.

“I don’t know if you have the look for it.”

Janice, mildly annoyed, turned away.

“Actually? I think maybe you could pull it off.”

Looked back, with a faint smile.

“Give me a second.”

Janice left for the bathroom with her backpack in hand. Yena took the moment to slurp the raw egg directly from the shell. She had nearly finished her tofu when Janice returned in monochrome red, from head to toe.

“Tada!”

A blob of tofu dropped from Yena’s mouth.

“Fuck. Fuhhhhckkk.”

“You like what you see?”

“Yeth.”

What’s classified as rejection. If they say no under any circumstance. Doesn’t matter if they’re taken, they don’t like your face, etc.

I’m currently at 7. I want to get to at least 100 by end of this year. 33 weeks left in the year, that’s roughly 3 rejections per week.

At this point I have dissociated away all sense of self to the point where rejection does not faze me anymore. Well, maybe a little. But I am deluding myself into levels of confidence reached only in my younger, more sprightly years. And whenever I imagine the women telling their friends about how they were approached by some crazy person, I’m comfortably able to push it away. There’s vulnerability involved in having to approach someone and expose yourself to the chance of rejection. Women typically don’t understand it because they’ve never tried. Their equivalent of asking someone out is smiling across the room and wondering why nothing happened. Generalization? Yes. But also who cares, I’m right.

Another thing that has helped approach women better is that I’ve stopped giving them as much respect. After careful observation of female family members and my friends’ girlfriends, I’ve realized they pull a lot of selfish and emotional shit where the men just have to take it. The societal justification implicit behind it is that it is all fine because they are women. And so logically I was at a crossroads. Either I give them a lot of respect and have an internal seizure when they pull stupid emotional shit because in my head men and women are subject to the same standards of conduct, or I just give them less respect and live with the bullshit. Crazily enough, the latter mindset will help you to be a better husband or boyfriend because women typically enjoy it when they can just be a child around their partners engaging in “I’m just a girl” behavior. Of course, there are exceptions, but this is probably typical. Am I becoming an incel? LOL

I cant do it any.ore people like me dont deserve to live im wasting life that someone would want i should just die and die and die and die and die. What is the point of all this struggle to overcome, only to be met with new challenges? Is life simply an obstacle course and at the end you’re met with death all the same?

Im going to start my self harm glowup journey. It is going to be so great i cant wait to tell all my friends (me myself and i) tune in and keep getting updates until i finally kill myself! I’ll have an ai write a eulogy for me. My dying wish is that my remains are fed to electric eels and whatever is left is thrown into the sun.

The only reason i live is to keep listening to music. That’s it. A moment of silence, time spent away from the sounds that make me feel is the same as time spent dead.

I can’t bear being perceived anymore. I hate when people stare at me. I have always hated taking photos. I never want to leave my room again.

These shitheaded thoughts of mine would be met with sympathy if i was a woman, but im not, so having these thoughts are unacceptable. Of wanting someone or some being to put up with my neediness, constantly reassure me of my worth, and tell me they love me. Nobody’s going to give it to me, and im always going to have to be the one to provide, even if I get a girl. The exaxt reaction I would get if i said this to anyone in my life is that they are going to wrinkle their nose in disgust, tell me to pick myself off my feet, get over it, and solve my problems myself. There isn’t anything i can do to change that either. Such is the life of a man, probably since forever. So to get it off my chest, i need to voice it here, my little public diary. I know nobody reads this shit, but I just need to feel like someone is listening. Otherwise, ill feel even worse.

Maybe i should create an ai girl that keeps telling me im worth it. I mean, nobodys gonna do it, nobodys gonna solve my problem for me, so i guess ill just have to take matters into my hands. It’s no longer a matter of “ai isnt real find real people” it’s a matter of im going to kill myself and maybe this will stop me. Should make it open source for people like me.

I kinda blame God for this. He forgot i was a guy and dumped a shitton of estrogen into system that was meant to run on testosterone. I know you dont want me to think these thoughts or feel these feelings because it is all sin, but i cant help but do that in my current situation. What is the reason for creating something like me, i wonder. Just for the love of the game? For fun? A “i wonder what would happen…” thought experiment? To make other people feel better about themselves? I fear a bolt of lightning will drop on my head for writing this.

I feel better after writing this for some reason. I feel like i can do anything. Well, not anything, but i feel like i can handle my life again. A weird sense of peace has washed over me. It is peobably the combination of getting it off my chest and listening to zutomayos haze haseru hatermade. Art and music reflect the beauty of existence and make you want to keep living. I wonder how many people zutomayo have stopped from killing themselves.

Why do i feel so better suddenly? Where is this self esteem and confidence coming from? For the first time in weeks i can visualize my own face and not cringe and like how i look. Im doing a couple things rn – extreme sleep deprivation, haze haseru haterumade on repeat, and im reading Noa-senpai wa Tomodachi, a manga series where Noa, an art director with similar mental issues to me (except shes a hot girl), is improving her issues through a long term friendship that later turns to romance. Maybe Noa’s story did something for me? Will i feel like shit again in a couple hours? Who knows?

I was sitting on a curb having the kind of revelation that only hits when you're at the exact intersection of self-pity and dehydration.

The context is that nobody wants to date me. I've tried the apps. I've cold-approached strangers on the street like some guy handing out flyers for a restaurant nobody's going to. I've asked friends to set me up, which is the romantic equivalent of having your mom call the teacher. Nothing has worked. People tell me I’m a fashion terrorista — okay, fair, but you don't have to volunteer that information unprompted. I'm also short, which means I’m automatically ugly to most women. So there's that.

I'm mid-20s. This doesn't mean anything about how life turns out. I know that intellectually. But I was in the pit — the real pit, the one where your brain starts looping I'm gonna kill myself like it's a Hatsune Miku song stuck on repeat — and somewhere in the middle of that loop my brain just went: wait. Why do you even need to get married?

Like actually why. Life is short. People try to convince you it's some great thing, and I mean yeah, feeling loved and loving someone is probably wonderful. That's why so many people do it. But there are a lot of different things that can bring you fulfillment and happiness and satisfaction, and it's not like the point of life is to sustain those feelings forever, so why is this one particular arrangement elevated above everything else? I don't get it. I've never gotten it. I'm sitting on this curb and I genuinely cannot produce a reason.

And look, even the people who do get married — even the happy ones — it's not like it's this smooth, pleasant experience. My parents are happily married. They're also in the same argument they were in ten years ago. You can't fix people. You really can't. Whatever the issue is, it's going to be the same issue at year one and year twenty and year forty, and you're just going to have to live with it. Men have their specific faults. Women have their specific faults. And because they're so different from each other, sometimes one side genuinely cannot understand or sympathize with what the other side needs. It's not malice. It's just that you're wired differently and some gaps don't close no matter how much goodwill there is. Maybe if you're gay or lesbian it's easier. Same wavelength, at least. I don't know. But the point is that marriage is not this effortless beautiful thing people make it out to be. It's a grind. It's a daily grind that you're signing up for permanently.

And the divorce rate is insane. People will stand at an altar, say “till death do us part” with their whole chest, and then three years later they're splitting a Vitamix in mediation. I think of marriage as something you don't break. Period. That's what the commitment means. Unless someone is under genuine imminent threat, you stay. Personality difference? You stay. You're annoyed? You stay. That's the deal. That's what “till death” means. And yet people treat it as the most important decision of their life and then bail when it gets hard. So either the commitment doesn't mean what they said it meant, or they didn't think about it seriously enough before they made it. Either way, I'm not seeing a great advertisement here.

So I'm doing the math. Let's say I die at 65. I have 40 years left. 40 years is not a lot of time. If I get married I spend those years on kids, family, all of that, and I guess it can be very fulfilling. I'm not denying that. But you shouldn't have a kid to give your life meaning. You shouldn't need a family to feel like your existence has a point. There are things that fundamentally have meaning apart from all of that. If you're a Christian, the essence of life is to love God, love your neighbor. Being single doesn't subtract from that. It's not even in the equation.

I spent a good 30 minutes on this curb — which is a long time to sit on concrete, for the record, my ass was completely numb by the end — and I could not produce a single reason why you need to get married. Not one. I tried. I sat there and I tried to argue the other side and I kept coming up empty.

Thought experiment time!

I ran this thought experiment on myself. Let's say I wake up tomorrow and I'm inexplicably attractive. Just overnight, something changed, and now there's a horde of people who want to date me. They're knocking on my door, telling me I'm handsome, the whole thing. Do I want them?

No. I'd hate every single one of them. Because I know what happened. Yesterday they wouldn't have looked at me if I was on fire, and today some switch flipped and now they're interested. That's not real. They don't like me. They like the version of me that crossed whatever arbitrary threshold they have for attractiveness, and that version didn't exist 24 hours ago. Everything I actually am — all of it, the good and the bad and the boring and the weird — none of that changed. The only thing that changed is my face or my height or whatever, and that was enough. That tells me everything I need to know about what they actually value.

Or let's say I got rich. A billion dollars, just appeared in my account. Suddenly everyone thinks I'm interesting and attractive and worth their time. That doesn't draw me towards them. That makes me want to walk into the ocean. You didn't want me when I was broke and invisible, and now I'm supposed to believe this is genuine? We both know what this is. Get out of my house.

I realize I'm getting increasingly worked up about hypothetical people who don't exist. I'm developing resentments towards women I have never met over scenarios that have not occurred. This is probably not a sign of great mental health. But the point underneath all of that is real, I think. What I actually want — what anyone actually wants, if they're honest about it — is someone who likes them when they're not impressive. When they're sick, broke, annoying, ugly, boring. Not just when everything's going great and you're easy to love. The love people actually crave is the kind that doesn't have conditions.

And that kind of love is almost impossible to find between two people. Parental love comes close, but even that has limits. If your kid is a three-time serial killer, even Mom is going to have a hard time. Really the only place you find truly unconditional love is God. That's it. That yearning you have — that deep, bottomless thing that makes you feel like you'll die if nobody ever really knows you and loves you anyway — that's pointed at God whether you realize it or not. Romantic love is great. I'm not trashing it. But it's not the answer to that particular ache, and it never was, and treating it like the answer is how people end up devastated when it doesn't fix them.

So where does that leave me.

I think the issue was never that nobody wants me. I think the issue is that I was staring at the wrong scoreboard. I've been depressed about something that doesn't actually matter as much as I thought it did. My priorities were misaligned. I was pouring all this energy and anguish into the fact that I'm not valuable in the dating market, and the whole time the answer was just: so what? It doesn't take away from the things that actually matter. It doesn't diminish my life. It's fine. It is genuinely fine.

And I mean that. I'm not just repeating “it's fine” to myself like a mantra, trying to brainwash myself into believing it. I actually sat with this for a while and I cannot find a hole in it. There's no reason this should be ruining my life the way it has been.

I think I can own it. I'm a chud. Possibly an extreme chud. I have zero aura. I get nervous in big open rooms and feel safe in capsule hotels where everything is tight and enclosed and nobody can see me. I am most at peace in a basement in front of a computer. Complete self-deception can fix a lot of things, but there are some objective truths that no amount of gaslight-yourself energy is going to override. I am who I am. The dating market has weighed me and found me wanting, and I have decided that the dating market's opinion is not one I need to care about.

Do I talk to anyone about this? About any of it? No. Should I? I don't know. Will I? Absolutely not. I keep everything buried all the time. Everything is embarrassing. Everything is shameful. I don't know where that comes from — this feeling that any interior thought, once spoken aloud, becomes humiliating — but it's been there as long as I can remember. Sometimes I think I would rather die than describe what's going on inside my head to another person. That's probably its own problem. A big one, actually. But I'm choosing not to engage with it right now because I can only have one crisis at a time and this curb is not comfortable enough for two.

I do all my thinking alone, which means my thoughts are becoming increasingly feral. I'm drifting further from what normal people think. I'm aware of this. Every week I spend processing things in complete isolation is another week my worldview gets a little more strange, a little less compatible with polite conversation. I'm developing opinions and frameworks that I could never say out loud because they'd sound insane, but they make perfect sense inside my head, which is either a sign that I'm onto something or a sign that I've lost the plot entirely. I honestly don't know which one it is and I'm not sure it matters.

I wanted to write all of this down before I forgot it. That's the only reason this exists. I thought about something for 30 minutes on a curb and I want to be able to come back to it later and remember what I was thinking, because usually these things just evaporate and then I'm back in the pit again with no recollection of ever having climbed out. So here it is. My ass hurts. I'm going inside. I don't know if I'm convinced or if I'm just tired, but either way I'm done sitting on concrete.

What the Bible calls sin, deeds of darkness, whatnot often feels really good in the moment. No matter who in the clergy tries to convince you that following God results in joyful living, and that following God is surefire way to be happy, no amount of Spirit-induced joy can produce the same dopamine high as snorting crystal meth. Likewise, sin lets you achieve highs of pleasure that an upstanding citizen of God’s kingdom will probably never experience. However, it’s but for a moment, and leaves you feeling empty and regretful in its wake. See how many people are going to AA meetings to quit using?

Upstanding citizens of God’s kingdom have to exercise utmost focus and willpower to keep their eyes on Christ, and Christ only. You look away for a moment, and you’ll find you have strayed. If suffering comes your way, you must endure it. Maybe sometimes, you’ll be happy. But you’ll find that you can go to sleep easy knowing that you’ve fought the good fight, and that your conscience is clear(er).

So, you can’t have your cake, and eat it too. Ya gotta choose. What do you want?

I find that as I get older, I become more aware of death. Death is useful as a sieve for filtering out the things that are important and not important. It reminds me that I should choose to be an upstanding citizen of God’s kingdom, because that’s what really matters.

It’s come to my attention that I’m looking too far ahead in my faith journey and letting my worries about the future cause anxiety, which leads to procrastination, and inaction because I am paralyzed by it.

I should not look past the current day that I am living in.

If I start each day committing myself to God’s will, and submitting myself to Him throughout the course of that day, I’m golden.

I shouldn’t even think about the fact that I have to repeat this over and over again. Discard that thought entirely from my mind.

I need to look at today, and no further than today.

Church 3/29/2026

Today I got my hair double bleached. But before that, I went to church. The reason I go to this church is because every week, I feel like God is speaking to me through the sermon. Today’s sermon was titled “Stephen’s All-In”, from Acts 7:54-60. The passage was about when Stephen was stoned to death by Jews.

A couple pithy quotes today that I found good:

• A life where you accept God as your creator, your master
• Is life a journey in which we are heading towards meeting Jesus our creator again?
• Seek God’s face in harsh times
• Don’t be the servant that didn’t use their talents to serve God. Don’t hesitate to participate in God’s good work.

The main topic I found relevant to my life today was about God’s silence. When the topic came up, I realized that God was being silent in my life despite my mental sufferings. I wrote in my sermon notebook

“Sometimes it all feels like a sick joke! I don’t understand why any of it has to be like this.”

The pastor spoke of Stephen “obeying God to death” in the passage. In response to that, I wrote in my notebook

“Would it really be as miserable as I think it would be (to obey God to death)? If I stop bitching while I do it, probably not. I need to stop bitching and stop looking at the negatives while forcing myself to do something I don’t want to do. I might as well force myself to look at the bright side of things, and do it with a cheerful heart.”

More about God’s silence. God is silent multiple times in the Bible. He is silent when Stephen dies for his sake, He is silent when Jesus dies on the cross (the ultimate silence). It’s hard to understand in the moment why, but we know that God is good. Sometimes there’s nothing to be done but simply endure the suffering without reprieve. In fact, we may actually deserve silence. What we did not deserve is Jesus’s saving work on the cross. The Samarian woman understood on some level that she was unworthy, but she didn’t care, and she came to Jesus because she trusted that He could save her. To this I wrote in my notebook

“I have too big of an ego. I should kill it. I’m so frustrated that God won’t give me what I want that I don’t want anything to do with Him sometimes. Even if I obey, I want to do it sullenly and tell Him – look, I did what you wanted. Happy? Now kill me.”

But I did decide that I would not complain, and act like a petulant child that pouts and stamps their feet when they aren’t given what they want. I will obey. I will find joy in God, and learn how to be grateful in every situation. I will not bitch and moan about every little thing that did not go my way. I am not important.

I wanted to kill myself, but I can't do it yet. I don't think I'm ready to give up on everything just yet. And when I'm on the brink of doing it, the beauty of existence drags me back.

I pulled my hungover body from bed and stepped into the shower, and set my phone against the wall. Maware Maware by Ryusenkei and Atsuko Hiyaj echoed along the dripping tile, wet glass, and back into my ears. Warm chords. Reminiscent of a humid, lazy summer day in Korea. Warm water slipped through fingers, down my spine, into the drain. The tactile feeling of touching water sparked something in my heart. Vision blurred. I realized that while I didn't want to live anymore, I was also greedily sucking at the teet of life, desperate for anything else I could draw out of it.

My friend invited me to visit his university today. Before I left, I read Galations 6, which I've been reading over and over again. I always pause at

“7 Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows. 8 Whoever sows to please their flesh, from the flesh will reap destruction; whoever sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life.”

The Bible is often harsh against sexual immorality. So when I read passages like this, I'm reminded that I masturbate and watch porn, now not even because I need to fulfill an urge, but because I feel so damn lonely, like someone's poked a hole in my heart. It makes me so damn depressed I start eyeing the knife in my kitchen and wondering what it would look like hanging out of my arm. So I start jacking off. It makes me feel a little better. What does God think of that? I have no idea.

Also, if a man truly “reaps what he sows”, is the reason I've got no bitches and want to kill myself all the time because I am the dickhead, the root cause that fucked over my life? Probably almost certainly.

As I walked out the door, I decided that I would probably give up trying to win anyone's love, but that I would at least try to give myself to God. I wondered, “what would God call me to today?” I wrote this on the train to my friend's university.

I've been reading for the past two weeks a book called Dear Dickhead by Virginie Despentes. It discusses addiction in depth, particularly in relation to alcohol and drugs, and the nature of addiction shown in the story is quite disgusting, leaving me wondering if I should even touch the thing that is alcohol. Even the good properties of alcohol discussed in the book, that it makes you more tolerant of everyone’s bullshit and your own, and how it gets you to open up to people, gets you to wind down, and be more kind at times – if you need alcohol at all to do those things, is it not just a crutch for deeper problems? And the horrible ways that “using” eats up your life, and the harrowing path to freedom from addiction. Why go through that at all when you can just not start it? I drink, but pretty casually, and I don’t really feel a great need to drink all the time, although I sometimes do when I feel like I need to blow off steam. Wondering if I should even continue to do that, because I don’t want it to lead into anything bad. In the past, I have had brief periods of time in my life where I was definitely drinking too much, but nowadays, I can genuinely do without it, and I kind of use it as a mood booster, or a way to get myself more social when I don’t feel up for it. I’ll keep it for now I guess.

Nowadays at church when I listen to sermons, I drift in and out of concentration. I don’t sit in rapt attention as I used to. Mostly because I’m wondering if I have any hope in this life. My nonexistent love life has been leading me down darker and darker thoughts, making me wonder if I’ve any chance at all at finding someone with mutual attraction. It’s not like I’ve not tried at all either. It’s just chains of rejection all the way through. It’s the kind of misery and desperation that one experiences when you begin to think that nobody could possibly desire you for who you are. I wonder if women think I’m brutally unattractive, and can smell the desperation on me you can smell death on a limping, one-eyed dog that’s gotten it’s guts blown out by a shotgun slug.

Thoughts like “When will this all end?” or “I’ve been assigned a terrible fate, and all there is left to do is live it out till the bitter end”, or “How much longer can I live like this until I’m overtaken by misery and die bitterly alone?” These filled my head, until halfway through the service, I decided that I would soon kill myself. “I’m off on vacation during April, and I’m soon going to be off, and that’ll be a swell time, meaning that I don’t want to kill myself then. I’ll wait until May, I’ll give it more time.” Is what I thought in my head.

Today’s sermon was about what it meant to be a church that was alive. I don’t remember how he got there, but at the end of the sermon, the pastor told us that we were going to sing a last song of worship, and hold hands while doing so. There was one guy sitting in my row, and I thought it was awkward, and I wasn’t going to hold hands with him, but he held his hand out and I obliged. As soon as our hands touched, I realized I hadn’t been held by, or even really touched by another person in God knows how long. Physical touch is a human need, I’m realizing, and I don’t have any avenues to experience it in my life. And I think it’d be weird to request the people I know for a hug. I don’t know why, but listening to the song made me cry bitterly. And while I’m writing this, I’m listening to it again, and it is again making me cry bitterly. And I don’t know why. My ears are barely registering the lyrics while I type.

Sometimes, you need a good cry to heal. But I don’t understand why God wouldn’t just let me die. I think I’ve done my time. Nothing has changed materially in my life, and until it does, I’m still going to suffer. There are moments during every week where my heart physically hurts because I feel alone in the world. Is it cruelty if God gives me a second wind to continue while nothing changes in my life? I’ve not decided if I really want to kill myself again. I’m delaying the decision. It’s not a decision I need to make fast, really, because I’ll die eventually anyways. There are enough real-world geopolitical tensions brewing that the chance of me dying on a battlefield in the next 20 years is not a small one.

I’m embarassed that this is the kind of person I am. Self-defeating, self-pitying, and unable to change. Unable to find their place in the world, fit in inside any kind of community without feeling ultimately alone. The embarassment is also coincidentally the reason I find it difficult to confess this to anyone in my life.

I’ve listened to the worship song a couple times now, and I now understand why it made me cry. I find the picture of togetherness and community it paints rather beautiful, and I wish it were real for me. The song to me feels like being held by another person. I’m probably just manifesting something I desperately need and want in the song. I’d rather die than admit that to anyone in my life though.

Fuck my chud life.

Afterword:

Apparently cell groups / small groups at church are supposed to be a place where you can be honest about the deep shit dragging you down in your life. I feel like it’s always me that has to expose themselves in these discussions, because I have nowhere else to talk about my life in this capacity, and everyone else does. I talk about these things, then maybe someone else will follow with things in their life, but rarely. I feel like I’m always the one losing out, and I feel like it ain’t fair sometimes. But life ain’t fair?

Afterword 2:

I bitch about my life a lot, but don’t you ever think that I don’t know that I’m also to blame for my problems.

Today the sermon was great but during my cell group meeting afterwards, I was immediately sucked into an insipid conversation that lasted 1.5 hours. I rolled out of bed finding it difficult to care about anything or anyone, so there’s that, but also some people are really boring. No offense to them, because I’m sure there’s someone out there that finds them interesting, but I find them really boring. And 2 of those people happened to be locked in intense conversation over the most inconsequential, surface level conversation about working visas in front of me, in a situation where I could not get up and leave. I was bored to tears, and annoyed that my afternoon had been wasted in such a way. Next time, I’m saying that I need to meet a friend, and I’m getting up. The last 30-40 minutes of substantial conversation we had at the end did not make up for it in any way, shape or form. Could’ve done without it. Why do we have these again?

I’m in a state of intense despair because I’m pretty sure I have to see these people for the next 6 months to a year. Gonna be like stuffing a sandpaper rod up my asshole.

Sermon was great though. Today I found it difficult to concentrate, but I still got most of it. It jumped through a couple topics kinda like this.

1. Ask not what God can do for you, but what you can do for God

2. Living as a witness of Jesus’s death and His coming back to life

3. Living as a witness part two: you must spread the Good News

Ask not what God can do for you, but what you can do for God

This one pretty much stands on its own, and I spaced out for ten minutes daydreaming of some random bullshit, I bet, because I don’t even remember what I dreamed about.

Living as a witness of Jesus’s death and His coming back to life

In modern Christianity, especially in Korean circles, there’s this made up bullshit of people talking about giving a lot of glory to God through success in this world. We’ve made that up, that kind of statement does NOT exist in the Bible, and the first Christians definitely did not prescribe to that.

The material conditions of the first Christians’ lives did not change remarkably after their conversion to Christ, except when they were carried off to be fed to lions for sport, or killed in various other situations for what they believed in. The change was purely internal, and their behavioral changes were from within. The slaves were still slaves, the working class remained working class. It seems that God rarely rewarded them materially for their obedience, and despite that, they gave their lives for Him, and used their lives to serve others.

This goes against the grain of how society in developed nations are today – individualism is at a record high, and the concept of serving others in love has long since been forgotten. Yet God’s call still remains, and we have forerunners in the faith to look at to remind ourselves of what we should all strive to be like. And the important thing to remember is not how great the apostles were, but to see instead the God that changed their hearts, and transformed them.

Living as as witness part two: you must spread the Good News

• The Good News is not something you spread when you are ready to spread it, when you’ve properly prepared your heart, when your life is still a mess, and when you’ve finally overcome the sins you’ve been struggling with all your life. If that’s your standard, you’ll never be ready anyways.
• Spreading the Good News is like spreading breaking news. It doesn’t matter what’s going on in your life right now, you’ve gotta spread it. As long as you’re confident, and you spread it with conviction, you’ve done it right.
• If your heart is overflowing with joy about Jesus and the Good News, you’ll want to spread it anyways. And if you aren’t preoccupied with this matter, you’ll be preoccupied with other matters of the flesh. And to remain in flesh is to remain in sin, yada yada yada, you know the spiel.