Only Time Will Tell...

We search so long for something to vindicate our meager existence, enduring failure after failure, till finally the strings of our will snap, and we settle into ineffectuality as though it were an outfit of camouflage to disguise our inability to thrive.
We spend so much of our time feeling so certain that nothing we endeavor to accomplish can ever bear fruit, that we cease our attempts to actualize our aspirations, and dwindle inwardly into a half-life of malcontent and an irrepressible sense of futility.
And in such a state as this, we have no hope of altering the trappings of our existence, for as I've previously stated, our acceptance endorses itself, lending credence to our station in society, closing the doors through which we might rise up to a better position, and a reasonable view of our own worth.
This world is clinically depressed, and I can ascertain no way in which to overcome the febrile pitch of our plaintive bleating, the pitiful cry of our anguish which is muted only by the sardonic amusement of our own inner Despiser.
We become our own worst enemies, and society spends so much time and effort ensuring us that our perception of ourselves as unworthy is unambiguous and absolute.
Only the reluctance we feel for expressing our discord prevents the intended culmination of all of our life's dearest desires, the realization of our destinies, if you will.
Why, then, do we fight so hard to keep ourselves down?
Maybe, like a badger, when backed into a corner, we will fight harder for our own survival than any would ever think us capable of?
Or maybe, god send it isn't so, we are that intent on our own collapse that we see no other viable alternatives...
Whatever the case may be, I hold strong in my belief that maybe one day, somewhere down the line, we will again find ourselves capable of and equipped with hope, and turn the tables back around.
But only time will tell...
Love,
~Codaniel~