Couldn’t have said it better myself
“May the day of my birth perish, and the night it was said, ‘A boy is born!’
for it did not shut the doors of the womb on me to hide trouble from my eyes
for now I would be lying down in peace
Or why was I not hidden in the ground like a stillborn child, like an infant who never saw the light of day?
What I feared has come upon me; what I dreaded has happened to me. I have no peace, no quietness; I have no rest, but only turmoil.
Oh, that I might have my request, that God would grant what I hope for, that God would be willing to crush me, to let loose his hand and cut me off! Then I would still have this consolation – my joy in unrelenting pain – that I had not denied the words of the Holy One.
What strength do I have, that I should still hope? What prospects, that I should be patient?
Do I have any power to help myself, now that success has been driven from me?
Like a slave longing for the evening shadows, or a hired man waiting eargerly for his wages, so I have been allotted months of futility, and nights of misery have been assigned to me.
When I lie down I think, ‘How long before I get up?’ The night drags on, and I toss till dawn.
My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle, and they come to an end without hope.
Remember, O God, that my life is but a breath; my eyes will never see happiness again.
When I think my bed will comfort me and my couch will ease my complaint, even then you frighten me with dreams and terrify me with visions, so that I prefer strangling and death, rather than this body of mine. I despise my life; I would not live forever. Let me alone; my days have no meaning.
What is man that you make so much of him, that you give him so much attention, that you examine him every morning and test him every moment? Will you never look away from me, or let me alone even for an instant?
Have I become a burdent to you? Why do you not pardon my offenses and forgive my sins?
I have heard many things like these; miserable comforters are you all! Will your long-winded speeches never end? What ails you that you keep on arguing?
Surely, O God, you have worn me out; you have devastated my entire household.
My face is red with weeping, deep shadows ring my eyes; yet my hands have been free of violence and my prayer is pure.
My days have passed, my plans are shattered, and so are the desires of my heart.
My breath is offensive to my wife; I am loathsome to my own brothers.
I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God; I myself will see him with my own eyes – I, and not another. How my heart yearns within me!
How I long for the months gone by, for the days when God watched over me, when his lamp shone upon my head and by his light I walked through darkness! Oh, for the days when I was in my prime, when God’s intimate friendship blessed my house when the Almighty was still with me and my children were around me
I cry out to you, O God, but you do not answer; I stand up, but you merely look at me.
Yet when I hoped for good, evil came; when I looked for light, then came darkness. The churning inside me never stops; days of suffering confront me.”
- Job (abridged, New International Version)
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