The ends of days have been better than the beginnings lately. I had this fear this morning, that I had no control. It was a dream that bled into the morning and threatened to destroy any chance of having a good day. Events were running their course without my input. I was an actor in the play of my life. The actor doesn't write the lines, or create the scenery, or direct the action. He is a puppet, moved by others and bent to their will.
It was frightening, and the terror I felt pressed down on me, clamoring to be heard to the exclusion of all other thoughts. Everything reminded me of my fear, that I would be passed by. A wave washed over me, and in it was everything I hold dear, racing over me, through me, and past me in a flash before I could grab hold of it. For the life of me, I couldn't make it right. I knew I shouldn't feel this way, and that I would feel fine later on, but the immediacy of it was the worst part. In that moment I could not escape, and it was an awful thing.