I sit and listen to the rain fall, and fall, and just go on and on and on as I enjoy the comfort of my home. It's a typical day, or is it? It's a day. It's not a particularly special day, not a terribly bad one but it's just.. just what it is. Life goes on, not terribly awful or anything, with the usual minor annoyances and worries, sometimes the worries are greater, never quite going away and every now and again rising back up to major(ish) trauma status just in case I'm ever in danger of forgetting about them completely and being reasonably comfortable. There are also some nice things, a nicer room, with furniture, and even bed coverings, the temporary visit of our sweet little Cece, but nothing spectacular, actually nothing really good. Never anything to counter the bullshit I'm always forced to face, never something that tells me yes, you will be alright, you are as good as you (when you're in one of your rare arrogant confident moods) think you are. No, just more reinforcement that I do have reason to keep that worry in the back of my mind, to never let it go. Yes, I'm whining. I know I have it better than anywhere between 50 and 80% of the world's population, no famines, no disease none of that bullshit but still, you know, fuck it, I'm not bloody satisfied with my humble lot and the fact I can't seem to be rid of these problems, relatively minor though they are, I'm sick of it, fucking sick of always worrying, always having it reinforced that I should be worrying and nothing on the horizon except for just more of it. So there! Apart from that everything's cool.