Today’s path has been long, steep,
and treacherous. Discouragement, my archenemy,
has crouched behind every bend, attacking without warning, releasing a barrage
of deadly arrows that have severely wounded. I lay my head down, bruised and
bleeding, out of breath from running. Weariness
from the unrelenting battle drives away all thought except rest. Please, please, let there be a reprieve this
night.
But no. The crushing Despair, that hostile foe who is
determined to destroy, continues to pursue, refusing to back down. In the loud stillness of the night, it senses
that this warrior is weakened, and seizes the opportunity to advance. Accusing, mocking, belittling.
I know my opponent is close. I can feel the cold breath on my neck and
smell its stench. Always near, always
ready to ambush. I am terrified that I
will lose the battle this time. That Distress
is too powerful of an adversary for me to overcome. It is so tempting to surrender. To just give up. To be defeated.
