At times when I’m serving at church or encouraging a friend or writing some inspirational piece, I think —

If people knew how I really am, they’d run screaming.

Because I often feel like I’m compensating for the wrong I’ve done, and that there is never enough I can do to wash out my past. I think it’s all a desperate race to look good when I’m really still crooked inside, and any second now I’ll be exposed and pay the penalty and everyone can say, I always knew something was wrong with him.

I wish there was a magic bullet for this: but the itch never goes away. It’s a constant anxiety that others might pull off the mask and see I was just a fake the whole time.

Continue reading “Fake, Fraud, and On Empty” →