9.22.25: Rubik’s Cube

I once dropped a Rubik’s Cube mid-solve and the colors scattered across my memory. For a moment, I forgot which side was which, and it felt like someone shuffled my brain. That’s when I realized the cube isn’t a puzzle, it’s a mirror. You twist, rearrange, scramble, trying to force order, but deep down you’re just staring at yourself—impatient, frustrated, proud when it clicks. Maybe that’s why I like it. In three minutes, I can watch my entire personality unfold. Or implode. Depends on the day. Sometimes, the cube wins, and honestly, that feels fair.