After that I did a lot of talking at God. I think I was angry for a while. Angry that I knew nothing about God, or so I felt. I felt like I had truly missed the mark. School started shortly after the night I already talked about, and that only escalated my already heightened feelings of discontent. I was thrown into a situation that I was totally, absolutely, and completely unsure of and uncomfortable with. I was forced to go to school and act like things were normal when my family had been ripped apart, everyone I had grown up with was going different directions, I had NO idea what I wanted to do with my life, and worse of all...I was living in darkness. Sure, God was always there and I always pretended, but I was in utter darkness. Not hard to fall into when the rug gets pulled out from under you. It was like I had nothing to hope for. No reason to wake up in the morning, and I didn't know anything about this "joy" that I, as a Christian, was supposed to be experiencing. I was hateful, bitter, and desperate for something else. I was dealing with waaaay too many changes for one person to deal with at one time and I had absolutely no idea how to pray. (looking back it's obvious how insane my thoughts were. but that's what got me here; so, it gets told.) I think my carpet saw more tears than it will ever see in those few weeks and months of the beginning of school. I would fall to my knees, face to the ground, and cry out, figuratively and literally, to God. There was a huge, gaping black hole in my soul that I tried to fill with so many different things. And all the while, God was gently whispering his desire for me, waiting for me to step back and let him and him alone fill that hole...