This story was also published on sixsentences.blogspot.com.
She knew she couldn’t keep moving backwards; it had become a pattern and was nothing to her credit but try as she may, she kept repeating her pattern.
Everyone said “Get a new paradigm,” they really did, she had some smart friends, and she knew what they meant but the word “paradigm” was confusing and she preferred “pattern.”
They meant that she was deeply into a regressive trajectory; everyone seemed to know it but still she pursued a divergent approach despite a sinking feeling on her bad days that she is not getting anywhere important or even comfortable.
In truth, she no longer wants to know her pattern, she is fed up with her pattern, wants to pretend her pattern will just go away because she thinks this is the best remedy: ignore it, take the focus off and it will disappear, cease to exist and she can move forward to where everyone is waiting with open arms apparently.
But patterns have to be derailed first: they go on and on, that is the nature of a pattern, something repeated without end, you can admonish, you can ignore, but your pattern continues unless it is forcefully disrupted.
Yes, she knew she would never beat the pattern, it was as ingrained as her soul whom she never argues with; she didn’t think she would stop her pattern’s proliferation, she liked the way it swirled and swayed, she did not want her pattern replaced by a paradigm, it might not have that same flow.
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