Mine, I mean. If I were to put a number on it I would say, in the high ninety per cent. In my youth I was surrounded by, and went to school with, people who knew how to be happy as if by some instinct. I did not.
My sister said she saw me walking, head down, dragging my feet. For Christmas I received a book titled, Here's Help for You. When I was seventeen I became a Christian. This really helped. But my purposelessness was still with me.
When asked, in school, what I wanted to be, I wrote "Hobo". I collected railroad maps. I was serious about this. It seemed a far better alternative to what I saw around me.
I had a few kindred spirits in this. Two guys, elsewhere, had written "Hero" and "Inca sun god". I guess we were some of the original beatniks.
I hear women say "You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find a prince." Guess this was part of my problem--eliminating the negatives until I found what I wanted.
Have you had this experience? I can understand this, but should it take decades?
Church failed me, in every way. You find your best guides are dead authors. In your mind, you live and think apart. Some happy day you find your place, but in my case almost too late.
Wash me in your blood, Lord Jesus, and forgive me.