Again.

The situation is hard again. The crawl is long, and people are unbearable again. The sun and sky seem so far with tinted glass or curtained windows between us, and nothing fills my lungs but cold freon-ed air or warm dark smoke. Guilt nudges again, and sometimes fear too, again. I reach out for a hand yet again, trying to rise above even before feeling the impact of hitting rock bottom. Jon Foreman puts it in a song - Monday found me on my knees again.