Laying down to sleep with a thunderstorm outside seems such a waste. I say this as a professional napper by the way, so there is no disrespect. The thunder was loud and the rain, it was great too. Could hear it in between the electric weather rockets of doom — no, that’s just too much comic villany over that, I’m going to just call it lightening from now on.

But now that is has passed, the rain has stopped. That was not part of the plan. Falling asleep to rain is my favourite thing. (I know about rainymood, ok? But I prefer to shut my computer down.)

There’s a rain. It’s almost the only thing keeping my spirits up, most things feel wrong. I know, somewhere in the thick skull, that they’re not. But real and imagined kind of blurs, the line is not exactly clear.

So I sit here, listening to the rain and read comics. I wish I had something else to do. Right now, I swear I’d be the worst participant to play “anywhere but here” because I’d be ecstatic about a fucking bus-stop.

The sound of rain though, that I’d carry with me. And the coming in from the rain smell. That’s almost as good as the sound.

Yesterday and today there’s been rain. Brief moments of pause but mostly there’s been rain. A drizzle right now, so it doesn’t hit the window quite the right way. This is unfortunate. I want to hear the rain and have it merge with music. To sit back and just enjoy. Let go of everything, merely be in existence. I like that. Warm chocolate milk, the sound of choice and no more.

I’m really good at being alone with other people too. Even better really, because nothing can make one feel so much alone as other people present. But that’s the worst kind so no, this should be the good kind.