They say history repeats itself, and I know this to be true.
My life seems to be composed of the same endless cycles,
Playing out in my daily life over and over again.
I'll have seasons of peace, comfort and confidence.
Secure in my identity and at rest with the world around me.
But then I'll start to reminisce, and fall victim to a melancholy reverie of lost loves, missed opportunities and rainy days.
The there's a season of anger.
I'm full of indignant questions.
The Whys, the How Could Yous, the Couldn't It Have Been Someone Elses.
I'll lash out, thrashing about until something or someone brings me back to my senses.
I'll sink into depression, overwhelmed by my minuscule disasters, cut off from any light, and utterly alone.
Sadness will resurrect in sharp relief images of failures past,
Of death, sickness, and suffering.
And then, to complete the revolution, I'll feel the rending cuts of guilt.
Guilt that I could be ungrateful enough to be happy.
Guilt for acting out anger on others that should really be directed at me.
Guilty for the questions that I already know the answers to.
Guilt for forgetting the love and devotion of friends that would never let me be lonely.
And that cruel master of guilt will rally all my emotions against myself, and do more damage than all the other stages combined.
Until something finally snaps and I say Enough!
I will brook this no longer.
And some hidden strength inside me lets me throw off my demons,
Until the next round begins.
