beautiful soul.

This is a man after my own heart, his songs a panacea to my existential pains, his thoughts a comforting companion on this journey.

It's easier for me to believe in God than it is to believe that God loves me... [What makes me insecure is] the same reason why I have doubts that God loves me: I am very aware of my own insignificance, and one of the big human questions is meaning, like, what matters? Does anything I do matter? Does anything I have accomplished mean anything?