Today is a day for a rainforest inside of you, all mist and tall trees.

I'm feeling grey today, flipping what's usually my favourite colour into a foggy, invisible future.  It's sticky and cloudy outside, the kind of flat warmth that comes without the promise of rain.  I miss a few people more than I care to admit, and I just feel stupidly flawed sometimes.  You know these days?  On my worst days, I feel incredibly average.

Mediocrity is terrifying.  We're raised to be exceptional - stunningly brilliant children with endless charming quirks.  Aren't we all?  A survey I saw once found that something along the lines of 90% of parents think their child is gifted.  This culture of special, of achievers and go-getters - where does that leave me now?  I'm still me.  All those oars hanging in my wheelhouse seem a bit desperate, today.

So what do I do?  I avoid my homework, step over the clothes on my floor.  Listen to Sea Change by Beck.  I am the chain on my bicycle, stiffened with grease and overuse.  I move slowly, try to scrape the grime from my joints.  I slip blearily through todays and tomorrow.  I'm a rusty piece of metal, and I could break my fists trying to get anywhere near revival.  I, I, I am.