At some point, even the greatest misery begins to fade. Life, or what passes for life, plods on in it's own unending weary footsteps, and somehow we plod along with it, if we stay lucky.
When I am passing through hell, I have to remind myself of the last time I happened to be on that road. How quickly it was over, without any ingenuity on my part. After all, hell is a one-way street. The only direction forward is the way out.
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When I am passing through hell, I have to remind myself of the last time I happened to be on that road. How quickly it was over, without any ingenuity on my part. After all, hell is a one-way street. The only direction forward is the way out.
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