There are days when you donāt feel comfortable. You try to look for a reason but you canāt find it, but you know itās there. It has to be, because otherwise you wouldnāt write about it, nor would you be thinking all the time about something abstract, non-existent, but it exists.
Itās easier when there is something to think about, some concrete fact, since at least you can say āHey! Iām going to think about something elseā, but when they are possibly small things that have nothing or everything to do with each other it is different, and only because there is no apparent reason.