When the road is a winding mess, the raindrops feel colossal no less, when the sun don’t shine and you’re waiting on the stars to align. You’d rather be inside the covers on your bed, refusing to listen to the voices in your head, getting off the door to the metro you dread. Why me? Why do you will feel like the confused hippo?
Then the world feels right again and like the friendly lion you will forget the bad rain, you will feel like a happy minion being you, ask yourself why me, then too?