Misprioritization

I don’t know if that’s a word. I’m not sure I care terribly much. I have a life-changing midterm exam in 45 minutes that I haven’t really studied anywhere near adequately for and instead of worrying about it, I’m listening to music, troubled by the possible symbolism that’s entirely in my head of a dream I woke from this morning with the kind of jolt only a malfunctioning Circadian rhythm can bring about. I am running fingers through my hair across my scalp, wondering at the way my ponytail has miraculously fallen into a wistful repose that belongs on the cover of an indie album. Or is it my mind that is wistful, and wishful? I am thinking about the necessity of self-reliance, of being my own anchor, of tossing aside my misconceptions about friendship and relationship here and now but not anywhere else because I trust myself anywhere but in this place at this time. I mentally shift a gold disc marked “importance” from one tower of Hanoi called People to another called Living. It is smaller than the disc it rests atop.

It is time I stopped imposing my thoughts and worries on others. It is time I grabbed my loose rope and stopped trying to tie it to another person. It is time I embraced the dearth of constants in life. It is time I stopped typing and saying and it is long past time to start doing.

Perhaps, however, I should have studied.