i have never been too intrigued by games,

picking up pieces,

moving them spaces,

following rules.

i try to imagine myself doing so without getting frustrated, without simply ushering the board away, clearing the table and trying to forget i started something i cannot finish.

i have never been too intrigued by games and yet i seem to play one everyday.

player one: pick yourself up, throw back your sheets and saunter to the bathroom

+10 points if completed in the time provided

it’s a chore so much so that the penalty looks more intriguing.

player one: if failure to complete task, dock 20 points and move back two spaces

i move back two spaces, barely lifting a finger to trace the next card, rolling the dice, accepting that fate.

player one: if previous task was completed, move forward three spaces and pick up a mystery card.

i read the card a few times, knowing well enough i had not compeleted the task. but again, i had never been one to follow rules, so, i pick up a mystery.

player one: mystery objective, pick up your phone, they’re worried about you, you know?

i bite the inside of my lip, my plush cheeks, i can feel the heat rising to my face.

i try to ignore the nagging feeling.

i have never been one for games.

never been one for rules.

i set about picking up the pieces once more, putting them in a pile to hide the disarray, trying to make it seem as if i have them all in a row, like i know what i’m doing.

i don’t have instructions, no warning label on how it is i’m supposed to go about life, how i’m supposed to play these games i hardly signed up for. how i’m supposed to complete small tasks without the drowned out feeling of incompletion and the nagging drag towards my bed.

so i pick up the pieces, put them back in their box to peek at once and a while, to see if the king or queen has moved, to see if there’s even a spark of reason to get them back out again.

playing this game is a backwards to forwards cycle i can’t seem to escape yet one i can’t seem to stop playing either.