Found

She woke up this morning on solid ground again.

She did not think of you- well, she did not long for you, anyway. It had been a while since she'd woken up this way- it felt strange, a good strange, and she could have jumped for joy- she actually could have, because, you see, the ground was solid again. It was only a bit of island floating in a rough sea, not entirely safe, but it was solid, not like the thin ice she'd grown used to teetering on. She no longer had to tiptoe around her mind for fear of falling through into her thoughts- armed, frightening, pinprick tsunami thoughts which would wound and overwhelm. That part had been successfully cordoned off, no-nonsense yellow tape, and the rest was safe, solid to walk on again. 

She listened to songs, and even managed to get through some of them without thinking of you, sang along- not to yours of course, even solid ground can be shattered- but sing she did- and talked- and skipped- and laughed. She wrote on the back of her earlier outpouring, scribbled blindly as she had desperately fought to keep her balance last night- she wrote this on the back of the still-visible imprints- "You're okay. You're okay. You're okay," where the pen, the claws had dug deep- and she did not fall. The ice did not break, the sleeping dragon of her red-black feelings did not wake. 

She was okay. She would be okay. 

~Sam