She lives in the white house down the street, the one with the black shutters. She stands in the window watching cars drive by. Today she wonders if the rain will ever stop. It has been raining for so long that she forgot what the sun looks like.

She also wonders if she wandered off into the rain, would it melt away all of her troubles, or only drown her in more overwhelming fears. She is not in a good place today. Today she is trying to figure out when and if she will ever be enough. Nothing she does is good enough, or at least that is how it seems.

What does she need to do to be enough? Add magic, or wonders to ordinary everyday things? When did effort and intention not classify as good or enough? She may never know, simply because the person she has depended on to be the determiner of worth, is not satisfied with life in general.

She lives in the white house down the street, the one with the black shutters. She knows that she is not perfect, but tries to be kind to everyone. Is it too much to expect that same courtesy? The weight of the world is really heavy..she does often feel like she carries it alone, but she knows that others feel the same way. Those who just want some relief…keep pushing..