Late that summer, my mom planted a big "For Rent" sign in our front yard, and announced that she and her boyfriend-at-the-time bought a fixer-upper house in Ken Caryl, Colorado, just a couple miles south and west of our Littleton home. I was not at all happy with the decision, and fought it tooth and nail. But, I did end up moving houses as much as I didn't want to. 

Mom was not kidding when she said that house was a fixer-upper. Oh, it wasn't too terrible. It clearly had been renovated a few years before. But, the house's foundation was sinking and it smelled musty, though the house inspectors found no mold. I claimed one of the basement bedrooms as my own, but I couldn't stay down there since the basement windows were leaking. In fact, those basement windows gave me another nasty Pseudomonas infection.

By then, I was sadly used to getting Pseudomonas. I knew what it felt and tasted like. It was far from pleasant and comfortable, but I could stoically handle it. I fought it the best way I knew how, while simultaneously starting my senior year of high school with Eric, and settling into my new surroundings the best I could. Still, I was not happy. Not confident. Not all okay. 

I still sensed my time on Earth was short, especially as my Pseudomonas infection began to build a fortress within my lungs. Once again, I began to fear the end was near. Cortisol perpetually surged through my veins as my infection only worsened, though I still did my damnedest to hide any and all of my discomforts. Those closest to me knew what was going on with me internally, and did all they could to encourage me and comfort me. However, I could not be comforted. I was once again a wild animal being backed into a corner by my old arch nemesis, and I longed for someone or something to vent to who'd understand exactly what I was going through.

God was knocking on the door to my cold, dead, hardened heart. I did my best to ignore it, but it wasn't long before I began to meditate on my mortality and what might be waiting for me on the other side. I wasn't afraid of the atheist's version of death. In fact, I thought a dreamless, eternal sleep sounded like paradise compared to the life I was currently living. I could use a long nap. But, the thought of life continuing on after I died was a much scarier one to me. I wasn't afraid of hell. Even today, as I write this, I still don't fear hell (which is probably why I'm not scared to be so blunt and honest about what I'm really thinking about God). I was, however, afraid of coming face-to-face with my Creator, and being completely unprepared to answer Him when He inevitably asked me for the secret password to enter into heaven. I know that's a ridiculous view of heaven now, but back then, that seemed like a very real threat. 

But, it wasn't long before my cynical atheist self took over my thinking, and reminded me that heaven was a fairy tale for people afraid of the dark, and hell was just a similar myth to scare people into believing bullshit. I spent a lot of time laughing along to videos on Youtube with titles like, "Christopher Hitchens ANNIHILATES clueless pastor.", as well as listening to Joe Rogan interview all sorts of interesting and intelligent people, all while shitting all over organized religion. Between those two types of media I was consuming, I started to believe that only the under-educated and severely mislead could believe in religion. If that wasn't true, then why were all the mainstream scientists (at least that I knew about) atheist? Why were all the crazy televangelists and fundamentalist Christians so...well...crazy? 

Obviously, this thought process was not right. Sure, there are atheists and anti-theists who are extremely intelligent and well-educated. But, there are also religious people similarly intelligent and well-educated. In fact, I was being taught by one such man, though I didn't realize Eric was a Christian until he casually brought it up during writer's group one night. Needless to say, I quickly dropped the silly notion that all people who believed in God were fucking idiots. But, I still figured there was no God, now mostly for moral reasons.