The Struggle Continues

I find myself disgusted with the world more often than not. I have trouble finding calm these days, it seems. My mind rages and gnashes its teeth when I allow myself to think of all the unpleasantness that surrounds us. Focus on the positive, I tell myself. It doesn't help. Pessimism is hard to escape. Everything seems covered in a lackluster patina, grey and faded, a pale shadow of the bright colors of youth. There are some moments of clarity, though. Here and there, the sun breaks through and light returns. A woman's smile, the laughter of children, a good meal, an exciting book or movie, a well-fought victory on the fighting field. These are all good things. But the power of good things seems to be growing weaker as the seasons change and the long bitter nights slowly seep into my soul. I know we will endure, possibly even thrive, but sometimes the struggle is all-consuming and hope is hard to come by. Sometimes I feel cold and hollow, eaten up with dread and devoid of comfort. It's good that I'm not alone when such a pall falls over me. I have people willing to pull me back from the edge of the void. I'm very grateful for that.