I’m going to sit quietly in the dark and quietly bleed.
Maybe it’ll get better. People have been telling me that for 6 months. But I don’t see it. And every time I get some momentum for life something or someone reminds me of how poor my form is or how slowly I run.
I think I’ll sit and watch the others race for a while.
From under the bleachers.
Learning to Run 
Would the injured run as well as the hale? Is God not in control to ensure His will is achieved? Then what matters your speed or form as long as you complete the race?
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Running is a good analogy since it is a high impact sport and does hurt whether spiritually or a foot race.
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That’s why sometimes I like to run a separate but parallel race on the other side of the bleachers. Speed doesn’t matter, form is not so criticized because spectators are facing the other direction. Sure, you risk gull splats and rain but at least you know the sun will shine sometime. Under the bleachers there is no hope for sunshine and you run the risk of someone spilling their hot coffee through the cracks.
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It probably won’t get better in another six months. It might not even get better in six years. Stay under the bleachers as long as you like. Eat some crow. When you emerge, there is a select few who will help you hobble along, you just have to find them.
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Crow is the only food available. Generally served on a plate of broken dreams with bitter memories, and garnished with gallstone sauce and nightmares.
It is best served in the absence of hope.
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Indeed
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