Therefore I hated life because the work that was done under the sun was distressing to me, for all is vanity and grasping for the wind.
Ecclesiastes 2:17, and in fact, I believe nearly that whole book applies.
It isn't my current existence which encages me. It isn't the fear that I will be stuck in my cold basement room, sundered from society for the rest of my life that tortures me.
No. No. For I know I am on the edge of so much. That it will all change...so soon...I can feel it coming. I can see the onslaught before me.
And I peer ahead. I peer into all the many endless grasping cycles and processes and dreams and disappointments and loves and fears and tragedies and joys awaiting.
And I see myself and how I keep failing and the neverending task of falling and failing and picking myself up to trudge forward again only to fall and fail again.
On and on. The rest of the days of my life.
And sometimes, just sometimes, like now, and usually, these extreme times are rare, I just lose grip of the worth of going through all this. Sometimes the point just slips out from under my fingers. And the vanity and endlessness and wearisome ways of life thrash upon me and threaten to tear my mind and my body to pieces.
It's just life. It's just living and everything it contains and it's not what I want. It's not what I want.
And when I shut my eyes tightly and remember what it is I want, what my goal is, where I am crashing and careening and drunkingly steering my little clay ship to, the light breaks upon me and my eyes fill with tears.
I cannot endure this life, but if it is only to prepare me for the blessedness I long for ahead, I can endure it. As long as my sole bent remains on the fixedness of heaven.
When it is blinded or obscured, even for a moment, as seems to be happening now, and object swings before it, blocking it from my sight; then I explode into a horrible despair because the world is so dark and unfulfilling and unpromising and cold.
And there, there lies the trouble. There lies the explanation.
I will escape from my prison one day, but it will be a long day in coming.
There is but one thing left to comfort me in my despair. But one thing left...and it drives me. And I am fixed onto my light. It lifts me and it guides me and what I thought before shifts...just ever so slightly but so greatly, into a better perspective. All is so much brighter, and all so worth it in that light. Then it all makes sense, and I catch my grip again.
And my eyes see nothing else. Nothing else, but that light.