I feel less than awesome. Usually I exist somewhere between optimism and skyrocket determination, but I fell. It happens, and I'll get back there. By God's grace, which is wholly undeserved by me.

I bounce back and forth from this place, and the intervals between my visits here get longer as time goes on. I don't accept it as any kind of normal. I reject it in Jesus' name, actually. Because periodically, my joy gets snatched from me. I stop believing I'm actually doing anything constructive or meaningful.

Cynicism is a dangerous, dangerous place. Cynicism is a place of numbness that I find terribly repulsive. I can't live there, simply and purely because there is nothing nourishing in that place.

But nothing, so far, has managed to snatch God's goodness from me. When the fire goes out, I still have a spark. I guess sometimes I just sit in the dark for a minute and remember that this is how it was, all the time. There was no spark and nothing, nothing, but the dark.

Sorry this is so cryptic. Here, instead of me writing anymore, just go listen to this piece from Final Fantasy X. To Zanarkand