I was pacing around for hours.  I couldn't pray.  I couldn't pray at all.  I thought I was beyond that now.  That I had been exposed and there's no room left for me, no room for me to even believe. I thought the world despised me—that my writing too was evidence of shit!—and everybody has been waiting.

It had all become clear to me again.  I hate when that happens.

And sometimes, I just need to get my ass kicked to come back to life.