Proof The Bible Is True

How had my life gotten to be such a mess? I sat alone in my apartment asking myself that question. I’d stayed out late the night before at a bar, slept the morning away, and I still felt exhausted. I had no job to go to; I couldn’t hold one. It was too hard to get out of bed most days.

I pulled myself to my feet and went to the mirror, hardly recognizing the gaunt face that stared back at me. I was 27 and weighed 85 pounds. It was no wonder I got sick so often, but I just didn’t care enough to eat well.

A therapist had diagnosed me with depression, but I quit going to my sessions. The only people I saw regularly were a bunch of friends who spent their lives barhopping. Drinking didn’t make me feel any better, but at least it was better than being all alone.

I reached for a hairbrush, and my eye fell on a photograph on my dresser: Grandpa. He had died a few years before. If only you were here, I thought, you would know how to make everything better.

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