“I realize that I’ve outgrown my idea of who I should be and what I should want and am no longer ‘cool’ to the person I was only minutes ago.” I say this and ponder how it is possible that my emotions can turn on a dime with really no provocation at all, I was, a mere matter of seconds ago a rational human being happy in her pursuit to color in between the lines that I had so carefully drawn this morning. What kind of lines? A line drawn in the sand, a firing line, and a line of relentless prose right here on this electronic page. Perhaps a new line is needed if I am to proceed without cause for arrest or anguish or haberdashery. Where is it that I should draw this line? When a small set of letters put together in a certain way change my mind in an unfortunate way,am I going to be able to think about lines or will I with no uncertain cause for questioning black out the whole page?