Make Something

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Some things have been building up.  Maybe ignoring them seemed like a luxury I could afford.  Maybe the stronger I felt, the more I took for granted that I could pass the next test.  Maybe its all just rotten timing, the reassuring essence of chaos that is oh-so-impersonal and inconvenient.

From the outside I might have appeared to slip on the ice, but from the perspective of my shoes, it feels like the sidewalk moved in the opposite direction from where I was so confidently heading.  With a sharp impact of cement against my back, the wind is knocked out of me, and even caffeine is powerless to restore it.  Who knows?  This could be an opportunity to check my assumptions.  What if the sidewalk did change direction?  Would that be so bad?

Making something helps.  I’ll be ok.  But right now, I really want my Dad.

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