Pie

My life is like a set of pie charts. I can do everything alone. I can cook alone and eat alone and think alone and smile alone and laugh alone and cry alone and sing alone and dance alone and make memories alone and dream of the future alone. But then my life is just a series of uniformly coloured circles. I want to share everything, giving and receiving slices of pie chart to my friends and family and everyone I love. And then my life will be filled with colour. 

There'll be circles cut into halves of complementary contrasts, and circles of colours I know or have just seen for the first time, and circles filled with thin slithers of every colour of the rainbow. And your pie charts will be the same. That time we bought prosecco and drank it in a field as the sun set, discussing French literature. All five of us now have that five-way pie chart of yellow and pink and green and navy and red. And that time I helped you empty the bin in the rain and we created two pairs of semi-circles of green and blue. And isn't that so much better than if I'd had a green circle, and you'd each had circles of your own colour? 

But inevitably some pie charts stay circles, and in their perfect regularity create holes of loneliness. And my thoughts go round and round, unable to do anything but loop over the same memories and ideas and emotions without any impetus to change direction and broaden my mind beyond the ring in which it is stuck. 

I'm sorry if my facebook messages constantly requesting your company get annoying, but all I really want is to share some pie, and create a slightly more colourful world.