I returned from North Dakota feeling refreshed, but not completely. I still thought about my faith, or lack thereof. I still desperately scoured the internet for answers, but came up empty handed each time. Occasionally, I'd mumble a prayer, but for the most part I was convinced I was talking to no one when I prayed, so I eventually stopped trying to reach the Man upstairs. I drifted through life day by day, not really doing anything interesting. Most of the time, I was just at Clarke's house, enjoying the company of the horses and dogs, and the peacefulness of the plains. 

In July, I headed out with Dad to Minnesota to visit family. We drove there, and it was a very miserable drive. The AC belt snapped while we were still in Colorado, so we had to drive all the way through Nebraska, Iowa, and half of Minnesota, in the middle of summer, without AC. Even as dad sped up to 90 miles per hour with the windows rolled down, the heat was unbearable. We sat in miserable silence for the majority of the trip, doing our best to stay alive. We miraculously arrived on the farm in one piece, 12 hours after the AC belt snapped, and I couldn't wait to get out of the truck. 

For most of the trip, thoughts about faith and God didn't cross my mind once. I was too busy being with family and enjoying my time on the farm. For the first time in a long time, my mind was clear, and I was relaxed. My days were filled with dirtbike rides, shooting firearms, and playing with the animals on the farm. At night, I'd settle down with family around bonfires under the stars and listen to them tell stories almost all night long. Overall, I had a great time, and dreaded the day I'd be headed home. 

For some reason, on the final evening of my trip, I was overcome by an overwhelming sense of dread while I watched the sun sink behind the pole shed. I didn't want to go home. I didn't want to leave the safety of the family farm. I desperately wanted to stay on the farm for another week or two. I just couldn't get myself excited to return home, where within a few weeks, I'd be going back to school. I knew something was deeply wrong. Subconsciously, I knew something bad was in my near future. I just didn't know what. 

I decided to just choke down this horrible feeling of dread, and wiped away the tears that had welled up in my eyes as I plodded back to the farmhouse to wait for my dad to return from a party. Once inside, I sprawled myself out like a bear rug in front of the TV, while my grandparents sat behind me. My grandpa stared at the TV intensely while my grandma sat next to him in her rocking chair completing a suduko puzzle.

I breathed heavily as I rode out a massive wave of inexplicable anxiety, but managed to hide my distress from my grandparents. I didn't want them to worry about me, because in turn, that would worry me even more. My grandpa's state of health at that point was already a constant source of anxiety for the family, and I didn't want to add onto that by letting everyone know that I was anxious about my future, like I was sure all teenagers were. I figured if I just focused on my grandparents' game show, my anxiety would eventually subside. 

Unfortunately, it never did.