"You may not believe in me
But I believe in you
So I still take the trash out
Does that make me too normal for you?
So dig a little deeper, cause
You still don't get it yet
Stand in the street, yell out my heart
To make, to make you love me
See me jump through hoops for you
You stand there watching me performing
What exactly do you do?
Have you ever thought it's you that's boring?
Who the hell are you?
I am extraordinary,
if you'd ever get to know me"
"There is something sustaining in the very agitation that acompanies the first shocks of trouble, just as an acute pain is often a stimulus, and produces an excitement which is transient strength. It is in the slow, chaned life that follows--in the time when sorrow has become stale, and has no longer an emotive intensity that counteracts its pain--in the time when day follows day in dull unexpectant sameness, and trial is a dreary routine;--it is then that despair threatens; it is then that the peremptory hunger of the soul is felt, and eye and ear are strained after some unlearned secret of our existence, which shall give to endurance the nature of satisfaction."
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