i'm like that scarf i made in third grade.
i'd just learned to knit, was cocky, confident.
the yarn wasn't that expensive, the plastic needles were shiny and made me feel professional.
i could make something all my own, i had the ability.
knitting it was easy.
watching movies, listening to music, laying in bed.
my fingers never ceased weaving in and out, in and out.
soon it was finished, and i wove it around my neck instead.

and only when i needed it most did i realize there was a missed loop in the first row of stitches.

and it caught on a branch, and my scarf was suddenly back to square one, a mess of tangled yarn meshed with the winter snow.

and i was cold.

just one mistake...and it unraveled everything.

so much work.

so little time.

metaphor?