I Think This Might Be Done For a While

I need to find beauty in something to write. Even if what I'm writing about is ugly, it takes the acknowledgment of beauty found elsewhere for me to be able to write a poem, or a short story, or a script, or anything. Everything just looks gross to me, these days. The world is overflowing with gross things, and I don't believe there's any human brave enough, or any collection of humans large enough, to ever stop it. What's the point in writing about that? Everyone is miserable, and they're right to be. That's all there is left to say.