A Clumsy-Hot Mess

I picked up my phone with an exasperated sigh. This is the fifth time in the day that it fell; c’mon gravity, pull yourself together!

One time it bawled so loudly that my mom thought I fell.

I used to think Butterfingers from Tinkle was dumb enough not to get his balance together, but it turns out I’m his sister parallel.

I drop the water jug and spill water all over the floor. I catch the ball my niece threw only for it to slip and fall. My pen rolls down from the table and I pick it up, but my bottle almost starts to fall. It feels like I set a bar for myself everyday; see how many things I knock over and if they’re fancier than the previous ones on the list.

You’re an adult, how can you be so careless, my mom sighs. Welcome to adulthood I guess, I roll my eyes at my subconscious.

Dear diary, I don’t will for these things to happen. I simply pass on the blame to gravity because everyone knows how dominant she is. Hell, she keeps me grounded too. Can’t complain against that now, can I?

Much to my optometrist’s chagrin, I apply two thick lines of kohl before putting my lenses. I tear up a bit, and my Himalaya retailer prides himself over the fact that my kohl is in fact, non-waterproof. Just as I bought it. In my attempt to clean my face off the black streaks, I end up wiping what’s left of it. By this point, I’m frustrated from applying, removing, and re-applying my favourite brand of kohl. I give up, spray a tad too much of perfume, and leave the room. Little do I realize that my hair is still tangled and not styled.

I step out with my sunglasses on my nose, but my airdopes fall out. How, HOW does my body derive happiness from my clumsiness?

Ironic how my life is a mess, yet my brain cells won’t stop chewing on my nerves until and unless everything around me is organized and neat. Hi, I identify as an oxymoron and my pronouns are messy/organized.

Do you think the reason I love organizing things and won’t stop until I’m done is because somewhere it’s a coping mechanism to the mess inside my head? Maybe I should casually drop this thought at my therapist’s office next week.

I now peel my eyes away from the window and finish typing this article. I shut the laptop lid and get u—- CRASH! Shit, I knocked my coffee cup over.

Like that post on Instagram said, I’m not clumsy. I just happen to be a victim of physics.

Sigh, it’s a wonderful life.