Chapter 11: The Weeping Man

Suddenly I heard sniffling. While nearly everyone else headed into the festival, one person also walked in the same direction as me. A young man was walking about ten feet in front of me. I hadn’t realized I was following him.

Was he crying? We passed a group walking towards the festival and one of the girls happily said to him, “Happy Forest!” She then noticed his sadness and said, “Ohh, don’t cry.”

As we walked farther from the stages, I could here it more audibly. He was bitterly crying. Did God reach out to him too? I felt there was way too much fanfare and distraction at the peak of this festival for him to have had a conflict with anyone but himself.

I wanted to comfort him, but I realized that I may not have the willpower myself to do so. I’m sparring with inner demons of my own. What do I need to do? How do I move back to a life that’s true and honest?

The question I asked from MysteryLand came rushing back to me. “What is between my heart and my gut?”

My soul. My heavy, heavy soul. A feeling of heavy guilt washed over me.

Suddenly, the scariest task came to my mind. I was more terrified now than at any point in my life. I needed to come clean. I needed to confess to the person who I’ve hurt the most in my life. My mother.

Through all of my unruly living, drinking, swearing, stealing, and bed hopping I had created a very big gap between myself and my parents. My mother took it the hardest. I also built up quite a heaping, steaming pile of pride through all of this… and to admit fault flies in the face of pride.

I got really, really scared, but I knew I had to do it, I just had to go somewhere quiet because I knew I would get very emotional. I skirted along, beyond my tent and deeper into the dark edges of the campground. Another surprise was awaiting me, though.