Gay Mormon Stripling Warrior

And it came to pass... a simple phrase used a ton in the scriptures. In the Bible it is used 452 times and in the Book of Mormon it is used 1424 times. I know growing up I had read it so much, it just turned into something that was at the beginning of sentence while reading the scriptures just as a period falls at the end of a sentence.There is a much greater meaning to this five worded phrase. As I have contemplated my life the past couple of weeks and those close around me, I have watched trials enter into all of our lives of varying degrees. Some trials have come because of choices that one has made, while others have entered simply because it's life and shit happens. A scripture in particular comes to mind: 1 Nephi 16:18 "And it came to pass that as I, Nephi went forth to slay food, behold, I did break my bow, which was made of fine steel; and after I did break my bow, behold, my brethren were angry with me because of the loss of my bow, for we did not obtain food.&

All I do is school. I live in the library, and am on campus all day every day just to do shitty on exams like I did tonight. Completely bombed my physics exam... again. Studied my ass of for it. It's like I work so hard and have nothing to show for it. Exhausted and stressed all the time, and when I get free time, it's like all I want to do is sleep. What I wouldn't give to truly fall in love with a girl (be attracted to her enough to fall in love) and then marry her. To have someone to come home to at the end of these awful days. I've shed a lot of tears myself lately, just feeling like I'm working towards my goal of med school with no one to share it with but a dog. These were thoughts I was having as I returned home late tonight from another 12 plus hour day on campus. I expressed my frustrations to a wonderful friend who replied with something quite incredible that really lifted me: " She's out there. And she's probably looki

This past week was one of the most emotional weeks of my life. All in all though, it ended on a positive note. I went to the temple on Saturday morning to do initiatories. I wanted to find peace and know where Heavenly Father wanted me go and what he wanted me to do. I also went praying to be able to heal from the pain and truly forgive those who contributed to it. The reason I did initatories was due to a blessing I got the night my world fell apart. I was encouraged to go to the temple and do them. It was my first time doing initatories since I did my own before my mission. I realized I had forgotten so much. My feeling though during them, mind you during the complete duration of being in the temple was of my Heavenly Father embracing me and just saying "peace my son, breathe." I was able to come out of the temple and speak to my best friend on the phone and work through some things. The conversation though hard at certain points was raw and needed. Tears were shed,

I'm 23 and yet the past 48 hours have made me feel like I'm 18 again. It's like I'm a freshmen in college. All the progress the past 5 almost 6 years seems to be all just a sham I've convinced myself of. I convinced myself I had a handle on my mental illness (OCD, depression, anxiety). The false face of this has all come crashing down. In the past 48 hours I have cried more than I knew to be physically possible. I'm not that difficult to read, my emotions are usually on my sleeve, and not that I ask for or want attention for it, people can usually tell when something is wrong. My roommates have watched me come in and out of the apartment with puffy tear filled eyes for the past two days. They haven't seen or watched me cry, so as I lay here sobbing at 5 in the morning as sleep escapes me, I'd like to keep it that way. I've been hurt by friends more times than I could count. Everyone makes mistakes, including myself. But I seem to have a kna

It's been a while since I've written... So this post is gonna be just thoughts and catching up. I apologize for the  sporadicness... A couple days ago I was sitting in the front room of my apartment with my roommates. We glanced out the window and discovered our apartment building was surrounded by cop cars and police tape. No one knew what was going on. There was no ambulance, and what looked like a Bishopric in suits showed up and walked passed our apartment. While we were sitting there debating about what was going on, our doorbell rung and we opened it. A group of men with a full body bag had accidently hit it on their way down the stairs. I knew immediately what had happened; someone had committed suicide. I recognized the situation from seeing it countless times growing up with my older brother. He had attempted to commit suicide more than once and thankfully had never been successful with it. Over the next couple of days, details came a