I've got my back to the wall and I'm still afraid of what could be lurking behind me...

Nothing. Or everything. Maybe there's a painting on the wall but it's too dark for me to see the menacing faces which plot my overthrow while I'm pressed against the cold of the wall, looking in the other direction.

I don't suppose there's anything to do when you're in a crowd and feel alone. I don't think you can fight against the wind blowing. And I don't think it does any good to try and stop the rain from falling. But sometimes, I like to think I can do something about things like this, because the everyday events which should be in my power to control are absolutely out of hand and I need to believe that I can control something.

A minute ago, I had the distinct impression that something was profoundly flawed with the course I'm following, until I read something written to me by a friend and realized that some people in this world are the beacon by which all lives guide themselves away from the rocky coast into the smooth waters of serenity.

Things change. So do people. I'll be fine tomorrow.

The Blower's Daughter - Damien Rice