Everyone dies twice: The day you die, and the last time anyone says your name.
I’m Ethan & I love Jesus as much as my little heart allows. I’m an artist, writer and speaker.
I’m a teacher, personal trainer, writer, photographer, etc.
Love to travel, do stuff, etc.
Unless otherwise noted, I took every picture and penned every word on this ‘ere site.
I graduated from Moody a while ago, then Denver Seminary, and now I’m exploring Quetzaltenango, Guatemala for the foreseeable future. Thanks for stopping by!
I slammed my fist down on my desk, hard. Then again. And a few more times.
“You literally prefer to eat crap than a filling meal and you don’t even know it. You’ve fried your senses.”
“My mom prayed for a miracle and it came in the form of 12 DEA agents at my front door…”
Addiction is the mask worn by trauma and honesty is the light which tears both apart and exposes them for what they are.
With the amount of money they had, they could have easily gotten a high-end prostitute or escort to satisfy their whims. But evidently, that wasn’t enough. There was not enough edge or risk of being caught.
Where are the men who are healthily in touch with their emotions, and why is this so rare for us to encounter?
Our culture subliminally tells men that they need family and a job…but friends? Why do close male friends seem so WEIRD to us today?
Addiction doesn’t start when you bring the bottle to your lips or fire up your laptop; it started hours or days before that moment.
When moments of clarity arrive, do you take advantage of them or let them slip away, returning again to the fog of addiction?
Yesterday I skipped and recited sidewalk crack superstition; tomorrow I will be dust.