The chill from the winters air is like pins-and-needles when pulled briskly down my throat. Awoken by the loud patter of heavy rain against the tin roof, nothing can be heard over that crackling sound. I pull the heavy doona cover up to my neck as i roll over onto my back. Staring into nothingness, the dark night suffocates me. I shut my eyes tight, but it's the same image as before -- black. It's as though i don't belong, i do not exist, the world around me has collapsed and i am here under my doona, in my bed, beneath a roof which holds me from the bellowing rain outside. And that is all. Existence is nothingness, and nothingness is existence. There is no escape but accepting defeat. I slip back to sleep and wait for my next awake.