05

He had a hard time reconciling religion and life. Which was ironic - because religion was supposed to be a way of life. A framework for living. But these days, more often than not, he found himself scared to commit fully to the framework he had chosen. Which was also ironic, because what in the world was he scared of? If he did what he was supposed to do, then it was only heaven that awaited him, and nothing else would change that.

He came to the conclusion that there was too much noise. Too much happening all around him. Too many people with too many messages. Too many media outlets spouting too much sin. Too many friends who would turn their backs on him the moment he tried to be more faithful to his beliefs.

It wasn't that he wanted to be a recluse; not particularly. But what else was left for him, when the world had gone half-crazed with sin? When even the believers dropped virtue for vice? When the devils walked among them, and the world crumbled around them, and he was expected to go about his day in ignorance, to smile and say, Hey, how's it going? Good weekend? Cool, cool, cool.

He knew it was the easy way out, but he didn't have the strength to fight for the rest of his life. Out there in his little cabin in the woods, days stretched into weeks stretched into months stretched into years, and all the while, he thought of nothing but the simple struggles of daily survival and the simple desire to perfect his faith.

It was the easy way out, yes. But at least here, in the middle of nowhere, he was safe from the noise of the world beyond. Safe from the confusion and the hurt and the temptation and the guilt.

Here, it was just him, the book, and God's green earth. 

But that's the thing about humans. 

They just can't leave you alone.