What/Who/When is the Cure?

This morning I almost admitted defeat. I almost embraced the weight of helplessness, and the fact that the blue sky and most beautiful clouds I'd ever seen in my entire life couldn't penetrate the fact that I was tired, and in over my head. And you know what? Maybe I am. But after a nap and a warm pair of dryer-fresh pants, things started to turn around. I made a playlist I could bounce along to, and work was awesome. It always is. How can things change so quickly? Part of me wants to feel afraid that this won't last, and that I'll fall back into whatever had me cliche-shower-crying earlier this morning. I'm not scared, though. The chest bubble of light feels like it's burst and spread throughout my entire body instead of restricting itself to outward-bound channels. I've infused my flesh with the love I wanted to share, and in that, I can share it with everyone, anyone. Everytime someone takes a paper or a pair of tickets from me, a little bit of it rubs off on them. Then their own light mixes with it, and soon we're all infected. If you'll excuse me, I have to eat, sing and sleep. Goodnight.