Call to action; take no help.
Bear with me while I cut out my guts and dissect this mess. No list of infirmities could explain this malaise. I trace in reverse to find where fantastic went astray. A definite and correct label would be a relief. Angles and facets, let alone the variables, sift through my fingers like sand. My task list strains buoyancy, as manic bursts vote to keep me afloat.
I know there's a pill for that. If the target is overshot, another pill can bring your brains back in range. If two pills mush your brains, then the third is to neatly congeal them. The fourth pill is free with the purchase of three, or you can exchange it for a frequent flier mile.