Good times cannot last forever, and they don’t and won’t. There is always a dark cloud hovering over your head, typically invisible to the naked eye but following you around wherever you go nonetheless, and on multiple occasions in your lifetime that cloud will burst open and shower you with icy rain coupled with other unwanted detritus. Guaranteed to happen, and on select instances you just have to persevere and trudge forward into a severe headwind with your head bowed down—being brutally pelted with miniscule, razor-sharp, icy projectiles all the while—your forward progress undeterred and your commitment unwavering. I know it is cliché and vogueish in today’s world to say you don’t want to include merely “settling” on the roster of choices available to you, but realistically that is what you’ll have to do during certain trying periods of your life, and hopefully their duration will be short-lived and relatively glitch-free: “Settle” between an assortment of lesser choices, since the ideal one doesn’t exist—never has and never will. The sooner you come to grips with this stark reality—the reality of non-perfect yet non-lethal choices—the sooner you’ll find happiness begin creeping back into your everyday life.
Fred's Soapbox 