Get Home

    Days like today all I can think is, "I need to get Home. I need to get Home." I can feel the crash coming, and I know if I can get home I can likely stave it off with forced mania. I can work myself to the brink of exhaustion and then mania will kick in and take over. I know this. I know this. It is like a tide of panic rolling toward the shore. I have no idea the depth and power of the wave. Have no way of knowing until it hits and either breaks upon the rocks, harmless and mild. Or if it will sweep far inland carrying detritus from the depths to deposit upon my ravaged beach. There is no way of knowing. I just know that the alarm has sounded. The bell is pealing. I have to get to high ground, my home, my fortress of solitude, my bunker high upon the hillside. I have to outrun the wave. Hoping it is all foam and spray. I need to get Home. I just need to get Home.