I've been trying for days now to get a grip. I try to tether myself down with logic, hoping for a haven of sense, for fear I'll float away in diffusion if left unchecked. The future looms with intent -- or does it? I toy with suspicions, perchance their sting might bring me back down to earth. I ground myself with guilt and doubt. I look for distractions to regain some focus. If I could make my psyche sit quietly in a corner in an extended time-out, I would.

In truth, I'd prefer to let it run amok, let the electric rush of fear and excitement shoot out my fingertips and bounce off the walls, turn cartwheels across an Earth that jumped off its axis and started turning in a whole new direction, as I try to hang on for the ride. But for that, I've got to get a grip.