Seen and Understood: For the Quiet Ones With Loud Inner Worlds

You’ve probably seen it stitched on throw pillows or captioned under sunset beach pics: “ Live life to the fullest. ” Cool. But what on earth does that even mean? Is it skydiving at 80? Quitting your job to travel the world? Drinking overpriced smoothies that taste like wet spinach and regret? I used to think living life to the fullest meant checking things off a bucket list like a productivity freak with a death wish. Hike Machu Picchu? Done. Eat gelato in Rome? Done. Feel vaguely unfulfilled while staring at a breathtaking view because you’re still thinking about your Instagram angle? Also done. But something about all that “living” felt... hollow. Not to be dramatic (okay maybe just a little), but if you’ve ever flopped on your bed after a “dream trip” and thought, “That’s it?” you know what I mean. This blog post is not your average fluffy “just follow your heart” pep talk. I’m writing this because I think the whole living-life-to-the-fullest thing has been hijacked by hustle...

Spoiler alert: this isn’t one of those nice, neat blog posts with a bow on top. This is the weird, messy, spiritually twitchy one. So if you’ve ever secretly watched The Conjuring and then Googled “does liking horror open the door to demons,” you’re exactly where you need to be. It started, as most questionable habits do, innocently enough. A Friday night. Popcorn. Netflix. Just me and the flickering blue light of some haunted house movie I probably shouldn’t name. I remember sitting there frozen under a blanket, not because I was cold, but because I’d heard that sound. You know the one. The sudden violin screech. The “Don’t go into the basement, why are you like this?” kind of sound. I was simultaneously scared out of my mind and wildly entertained. And then, out of nowhere, the guilt wave. Like. Wait. Should I even be watching this? The Christian-Horror Dilemma No One Talks About There’s a part of me that loves darkness. Not in the worship the devil kind of way, just... the storyt...

Or am I just desensitised and spiritually numb? (Gulp.) Last week, I accidentally watched four episodes of a dystopian thriller past midnight, told myself “just one more” like an unrepentant liar, and proceeded to wonder the next morning whether I had spiritually compromised myself. You ever get that? One moment you’re on fire for God, praying bold prayers, journaling deep confessions, making aesthetic Bible highlights with pastel markers, and the next, you’re watching some morally grey guy take down ten enemies with a fountain pen while you’re halfway through your bag of salted egg potato chips. And look. I’m not saying watching Squid Game (or any other high-stakes, morally ambiguous, blood-splattered thriller) automatically means you're one step away from the pits of Sheol. But I am saying… it messes with your head. And your spirit. And sometimes your sleep schedule. So here’s the big, uncomfortable question: As a Christian, can I still enjoy shows like Squid Game? Or am I basi...