So you're lonely. Life has come to be anything but. Loneliness's brought emptiness, desolation, an irreparable vacuous brokenness. The days breed despair. The minutes make for anguish. Some seconds wail. And there's fear for the hours; many from hell itself. I recall my loneliest time. A time of deepest pain. A season dark beyond drudgery. Little doubt you feel as I did. How could life get so woefully bad? What was God thinking to put me through what seemed more like a living death than an existence of palatable life? Why is God so seemingly sadistic? When, if ever, will life improve?
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