Alonzo Rosemond loved being with his father. He felt secure and loved sitting on his fathers lap, or being at a baseball game with him. Yet conflict came between his father and mother, and his father told him that he was leaving for a week, and would see him the following Saturday.

Alonzo sat at the curb out front, waiting eagerly for his father to return that following Saturday. So he sat and waited, and waited, and waited and waited and waited and waited, but his father never came.

Looking for acceptance anywhere he could find it, he joined a group of kids at the playground upon moving to a new location, only to get beat up by them, day after day after day. But being beat up was better than having no father or mother, because at least he could count on someone being at the playground when he showed up. It did not matter that he knew he was going to get beat up again. Any attention was better than none.

Some children grow up with so much pain they will do anything to find something to bury it with. Alonzo found his pain minimized through drugs and $@$. On every drug high, he was looking for meaning to life. Oh, he had found acceptance alright. People lying on the floor beside him, stoned out of their mind, trying to drown their pain of the past as well: They accepted him for what he was. Just another person filled with pain from childhood, looking for a little happiness, all the while hell was calling.

Imagine if you somehow can what hell is like. It is filled with people who just want a little happiness, even if for a few seconds. Yet there will not be any drugs there to take the pain away. The only thing you can be certain of in hell is that the pain is never going to stop. Day after week after month after year after centuries through eternity without end, just more pain. Yet no one has to go there and experience that pain. All they have to do is listen to Alonzo share the words of hope

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