The world is a globe, spinning its way into the inevitable destruction that we cursed it with. In a sense, I was just like earth. New, innocent, and about to experience what the rest of the world did with its free time. Clubbing. It was that, which kept people happy. Anything aside from that filled them with boredom. Alcohol was the cure for imagination, and dare they step out of line and do something worth while, well there's always sex, and drugs. In this new exciting world I didn't know what to hang onto, the reality was that everyone hung onto their last beer bottle, it was the god that saved them. Still, my heart, and the hearts of those around me, did not seem satisfied at the end of the day.

The people that gave them pleasure last night made it last only for a few minutes, then the dissatisfaction and reality came back. Numbing the pain and hurt was easy, drink some vodka and it'll go away. Shove a pill down your throat, reach Nirvana. Or whatever heaven the makers of the pill imagined for you.

When you're lying on the concrete outside of the bar, throwing up your last drink because your system is not used to that much alcohol, start thinking of the pain in your life that walked you to the bar in the first place. How tightly that pain held onto your hand, dragging you, almost breaking the bones in your palm. How swiftly it pulled you in, sitting you down at a chair and asking the bartender for your first drink, then a second, then a thirds, then a...

You felt as if you were floating, the music carried you away into a magical place. Everyone was dancing, and oh how happy they were. The smiles on their faces, the closed eyes, lips on the lips of a stranger. Exchanging of social media and personal information that you made up on the spot to impress them, or perhaps because you were too intimidated to tell them any truth. After all, you don't really know them, do you?

Among this peaceful looking chaos, your friends pull you into the dance floor, introduce you to someone and lean on each other for support, they are drunk after all. You dance to forget whatever it is you want to forget, that's the only way you can forget, right? So then you become heartless, for you forget what you felt in so many situations. You see everyone dancing to the rhythm and they all seem distorted to you. Seeing the exit door, you run for it, like an instinct kicking in. The music is loud and your head hurts. Reaching the handle, someone pulls you back and you look into the broken eyes of your friend who tries to convince you to stay. You come up with yet another lie to leave, they won't understand if you say that something in your gut is telling you to leave.

Stumbling out into the street you start walking as strangers look at you, some smile as if you were one of them, but you want them to stop. Men and woman touch you, but you slap their hand off your body. You go faster and faster, knowing that this time something is wrong. You have been in the same situation a couple of times before, about 20. Not even bothering to wait for the green light, you start crossing the road. As a car races towards you, someone pulls you back.

"Are you alright, you could have died back there," he says.

Turning around, not wanting attention from anyone you shake your head, "I'm fine, leave me alone."

He laughs, "you've said that so many times, I had to come down personally and make sure you're alright. Come, I'll take you home."

Drunk and disoriented you follow, "how do you even know where I live?"

"I know a lot about you," He gently takes you by the arm and leads you.

Through a lot of stumbling and fainting, you finally get to your apartment, it's dirty like always. Clothes lying on the floor, make up products and beer bottles from the previous day when all your friends got together to get ready for this night.

You fall down on the couch and look around, the stranger is still there. He's a bit strange, what regular person wears a tunic outside and holds a shepherd staff in his hand. You knew you weren't near a village, this was a big city you lived in. 

"Who are you?" You finally asked.

He removed his cloak and smiled, "you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Still, who are you?"

"I Am, what I Am," he said, you quickly understanding that it is your subconscious playing tricks on you again.

"Great, I am too drunk again and imagining God himself in front of me, why the shepherd outfit though?" You ask.

"Because you are lost," He nodded, as if agreeing with the fact that you are too drunk to function.

He quickly made you soup, it just appeared out of thin air, and fed you. When you sobered up, He still didn't leave. He went around, looking at your old baby pictures and smiling as if He remembered every moment they were taken. Turning to you he asked, "do you still have that toy your mother gave you?"

"What?" you remembered exactly what He was talking about, but you knew it was somewhere in a box with the things you don't look at anymore, perhaps you put it there because if those things saw your life, they'd be ashamed.

God sighed, "these walls have seen so much pain, it's no wonder they hide under that wallpaper."

"Why exactly are you here, to judge me? Tell me I'm living my life wrong?" Religion didn't interest you anymore, so you had no idea why God was even here, perhaps it was His last attempt to convert you, you thought.

God sat down beside you, putting His staff on your couch, "I am here to take away the pain, tell me everything."

Were you going to tell Him, He had no business knowing, you didn't want Him around anymore. Of course, in a few years even you knew you'd come running back to Him. That was the plan, live life like the rest of the world, then beg for forgiveness.

As if He read your mind, He said, "change starts now, I have had enough of watching you come home lost every day."

"I didn't ask you to come and fix me!" You shouted.

He looked down, "I didn't come because you asked me, I came because those who love you did."

Realizing that God was faithful and kept His word, you let go of your anger and started to cry, "you're right, I am lost."

He embraced you, "I know."

You told God a lot of things that night, things about love, things about hate, things about those whom you have wronged, and the ones who have wronged you. It seemed so much simpler, to actually sit down and talk with Him than to constantly run and numb feelings.

He wiped your tears, and you felt much better. The alcohol was no longer in your system.

"I have to go now," He handed you the Bible, the one He got out of your old box of things you felt guilty about, "read it, and I will be in there."

"I thought you'd always be with me?" You asked.

He smiled, "I always am, read it and you will see." God stood up and walked out of your apartment, you followed Him. He went into a cloud of fire, a pure sort of fire, a fire that would burn anything unclean if it were to meet face to face with it. Then you realized, the almighty God came down to meet you, though you were doing everything He stood against. He came in the form of a shepherd, for you were lost.