I over think and under act and somewhere in the commotion of both I feel too much and not enough. Tied up and occupied in my thoughts I hold myself back. I don't say too much or take leaps of faith over gargantuan chasms if "what-ifs." I make up my mind and unmake it again, one step forward one step back. I love things that are bad for me and can't let go of the things in my life struggling for freedom like a song bird in a cage. I think I should, but decide not to and cry about it later. A small scale disaster pulls on a thread of my composure, unraveling it all in one swift tug. I've been up, and I've been down and very up and very down. I analyze and calculate movements in my life like plays in a football game, predicting passes, covers, and tackles, skillfully moving and dodging in hopes of reaching the end-zone. Sometimes I do. And sometimes relying on a strategical plan isn't enough for success.On occasion the quarterback finds success not through a blueprint and a map of the field, but a fleeting moment of instinct, the flicker of a feeling that's gone so fast there's no being sure that it was ever there. And when he trusts it, he can make more than a good play, He can make a great play.