Why I Stopped Following God. I was born into a Catholic family, where faith was not just a belief system but a way of life. From an early age, I was taught to pray, to attend church, to believe in God without question. It was all I knew. Sunday mornings were reserved for mass, religious holidays were celebrated with devotion, and any doubts about faith were quickly dismissed with the reminder that God had a plan. For years, I followed along, never thinking to challenge what I was told. But deep down, something always felt off. I couldn’t put it into words as a child, but there was a lingering feeling that something wasn’t quite right, something that didn’t make sense to me, even when I tried my best to believe. As I grew older, I started asking questions. Why did this religion exist in the first place? Why was I supposed to follow it just because my family did? What made Christianity the "one true faith" when there were so many other religions in the world? I wanted answers, ...
Hey there! I’m Jayson, but you can call me Jay. I’m a 20-year-old Filipino born and raised in Hawai‘i, currently working hard and saving up for my future goals (because adulting is expensive). A few fun facts about me—I have two amazing dogs, Apple and Chico, I’m a die-hard Spider-Man fan, and mangoes are my ultimate weakness. I also have over 20 tattoos and, let’s be honest, probably won’t stop anytime soon. When I’m not working or adding to my ink collection, you’ll find me enjoying a Diet Coke or tea like it’s a personality trait. I started this blog mostly out of boredom, just to share my thoughts and whatever random things pop into my head. I don’t expect it to go viral or anything—think of it as my digital journal (because let’s be real, handwriting isn’t my strong suit). But if you made it this far, thanks for reading! Hope you stick around for the chaos. ...
Every day, I feel the exhaustion creeping in, my body aching from the constant push, the never-ending battle between wanting to give up and knowing I’ll regret it if I do—because as much as working out drains me, tests my patience, and messes with my mental health, I can’t ignore the fact that I’m seeing changes, proof that my effort isn’t wasted, that I’m slowly becoming the version of myself I’ve always wanted to be, and even though discipline is the only thing keeping me on track, it’s also the very thing that makes this whole process a pain in the ass, forcing me to push through the days I’d rather quit, because at the end of it all, what other choice do I have if I really want to grow? Short but simple post.
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