Odd isn't it, how thinking about something you want or seek to be will make you so profoundly aware that you lack it. Until I was reminded that I must be content with where God has me at the moment, I was happy with how things are. Granted they weren't perfect, but then things never are. But since I've been thinking about it, I am satisfied with nothing. Not my habits and interests, not the things that up until a few days ago gave me pleasure, not even the distractions that I seek out. I wander around wanting something more, or something to change. Discontentment has planted itself with in my breast, and my efforts at killing it are failing. I look around at my life and there is nothing more I can do bring satisfaction. I have no more time to give, and I feel like if I give any more, I will have nothing left of myself to give either.
One slip - a small crack - a single doubt, that's all it takes for the Devil to get in and the fall begins once again.
ye gods, I hate falling....