For all my resolutions about walking to and fro from work it's been too damned cold and wet lately. Throw in my serious need for new shoes and you have a good combination of excuses to keep taking the bus.
During some of the more comfortable journeys, once I have forced my way towards the back of the bus, past the mooooooorons who stand in the aisles, chewing their cud, once I find a seat I sometimes think about the people in, for example, the car beside the bus and I realise that in the car are two people with lives just as boring as mine and everyone else's, that there are millions of people in Ireland alone doing exactly the same thing I do every day.
And then invariably I start having a panic attack, I get myself back inside my head and start convincing myself again that I'm special somehow. Not some delicate beautiful snowflake, just superior to the other millions in some tiny way and sometimes I think that the knowledge that I'm nothing special is what makes me different.
