The difficult thing about being in despair is that we feel we know exactly what the future's gonna bring.
More darkness, more misery, more sadness.
But in our worst moods, we should answer our tragic sense with a simple question.
How can we know?
On what basis has this dark certainty of ongoing damnation been formed?
How can we, from our vantage point under the bedclothes, tell what the rest of our lives will be like?
Have we got a crane from which to inspect the recesses of next summer?
Can we, from here, meet everyone we're gonna be introduced to in the next eighteen months?
Have we become clairvoyance as well?
We can't be sure that things are gonna improve from here.
