one step closer, not that much farther away from being normal, again, from stepping away from the past, not too far, but enough that i can stretch my legs, and hop to the nearest bunny or carrots or lettuce, i wonder what it will be like, i wonder, i imagine, yet the images don't come so freely, they don't pop inside my head like toast out of a, that's right, a toaster, not like buckingham fountain, not like fireworks or a stepped on package of ketchup, maybe it's the tiredness, maybe it's something else, but i'm losing ground, quickly, the slope grows steeper, the ground and gravel becomes looser, and i find myself scrambling, for a handhold, for a root or a tree stump, a vine hanging from something stable, to steady against, pull myself close, feel the strength of gravity keeping me down and grounded instead of floating and unsure of my position life is right around the corner, and i'm going to be the one who knocks her books and bags up into the air and scatters her papers to the four winds