Fists of Fury

Sometimes the disappointment is just too much. The nervous aching in my stomach creeps up into my chest and sits there, threatening and taunting; tormenting with my inability to catch my breath. With fists clenched into tight balls of white knuckles and purple finger tips, I scramble to figure out what has set me off. The answer is clear. It's nothing. And everything. 

Perhaps in time I will learn to cope better in general. Life isn't supposed to be an easy ride. Close your eyes, take a deep breath and relax your hands. It's all going to be just fine.