There have been a few moments in my life where I have prayed for a mind that functions in lines instead of circles. Lines show progress. Lines get you somewhere. Circles refuse to end, no matter how hard you with the ends would recognize themselves as ends and finally separate. Sometimes my circles meet each other and send me spiraling out of control.
Yesterday was one of those days.
It started as usual, a conversation about vacations details and children named after bodies of water when my life promptly began to fall apart. Up until then, our conversations had always been so spherical, regardless of the connotation. Always ending in confusion and love, the way I grew to appreciate it.
I never allowed myself to admit that I’m a control freak and sometimes, most times, I need a resolution.
So I’m sitting in the middle of this shamble of a conversation, trying to reconcile circles and lines, admitting that I actually have no idea what shapes have to do with my thoughts, and I just want this to end. And it does. And I find the shape correlation that I’ve been reaching for. My stressful situation has finally ended; I executed my line and showed progress. Three hours of sleep later and I’m recanting everything I said, wishing spheres back into my life.
I never liked geometry anyway.
This post is part of Write Your Ass Off April, a Twenties Unscripted 10-Day Writing Challenge #WYAOApril. I am responding to the “Complicate” prompt. Check out the challenge here.