Fascinatingly enough, romanticising small discomforts does make life better. I'm on my way home and suffering a Mild Headache Of Unverified Origins (top 5 most likely culprits being dehydration, jacket too hot, slept in wrong bed, too much caffeine, too little caffeine) so the best I can do for now is figure out how to enjoy being temporarily mildly miserable.
So I'm sitting in a train staring outside at the faint outlines of scenery only barely visible in the dark, and being Tragic And Dramatic about it. I'm on my way to my lovely home to the love of my life, after having a fun weekend with my friends who love me, but for the next 40 minutes I am going to be theatrically brooding in a train, staring out of black windows, living in a zero budget fan-made amateur music video for Boulevard of Broken Dreams.
















