Helter-Skeltering

Let me off this roundabout, I want to catch my breath. I want to . . . pause. I’m having a panic about circles. My life is made up of regularity. Every day, every week, every year confirms, conforms. We are indoctrinated from the beginning of memory. Alarm clocks, coffee mugs, that spinning wheel  while the computer decides to wake up, the sun. Ruled by circles. I feel like Dorothy, without the drama and the snazzy red shoes, watching the Witch’s egg timer. My sands are running out. Well maybe I’m going to forsake circularity, maybe I’m going to become linear, liney-er, run to the edge of the horizon. Maybe today I won’t brush my teeth. Maybe I won’t do the washing up. Oh dear. Deadlines do something strange to my mind. Dead line, there is my line, my horizon or is it a brick wall? From this angle the line is a full stop. Another circle.