My father was a member of the Communist Party. Seeing the advantages we as a family had because of that, I thought that Communism was something I could live for. I wanted to be a part of something, and when I was in High School, I became a Communist youth leader; I felt I was fulfilling my life purpose until the Romanian revolution in 1989 when communism fell and all my "glorious" future fell too. I didn't know what to do with the new freedoms we gained after the revolution that December.

The Romanian peasant was on his knees, frantically gathering the half-rotten apples strewn all over the mountain road. In the pitch darkness, our rickety little car had plowed into his cart, throwing him off and somersaulting his two horses. As a cold rain and snow fell on this surreal midnight scene, I had never felt less in control. I asked myself, "What in the world am I doing here?"
 

 
 "We are the happiest country in the world, because we don't believe in God as those countries beyond the mountains do"
 

"If God doesn't really exist, then what's the point in living?"
 
I stared out at the Californian mountains pondering my existence; only 15 years old. I had grown up in a religious family knowing about spiritual things, but my life felt empty. I was conflicted; one side wanted everything that this life was offering me: sex, drugs, money, power and prestige while the other quietly hinted at other lesser-known realities in my life: purpose, peace, love, forgiveness and joy.
 

At 16 I had two clear conclusions: Life is boring and life is unfair. Someday I graduate, go to work, get married, have children, get old, and die. LIFE IS BORING. But my situation was better than most. I had a good family, good grades, and the opportunity to study at university. I realized most of my friends will be simple factory workers, hence my 2nd conclusion: LIFE IS UNFAIR.