Today, the white space of the page terrifies me. The looming deadline, the complicated criteria. I am without focus, without words. I am lost, in the whiteness of the page. I want to ramble, to write with affirmative I’s and me, but the restrictions disallow this, the pressure feels to great today. I can feel the day slipping away, not spent the way I wished, hours lost. The morning and even afternoon is mostly gone, early evening is drawing close. Shadows grow, and still this utter frantic fluttering in my chest. Anxiety mounts. Just start I tell myself, it will be easier once you start, but when I flip to the open page my fingers freeze and my mind rambles bouncing over incoherent thoughts that dart like dragonflies across a pond, and stop to rest on those things that fall far from ethical conflicts, contemporary business concerns and employee privacy.