A quiet evening with the truth or dare wheel

Sometimes, the smallest decisions feel the heaviest. I was just sitting there, scrolling through the same online cart I’d left full for three days, and the whole thing just felt silly. It wasn’t about the stuff anymore, it was about being stuck.

When the choice itself is the problem

I think it’s the fairness of it that gets to me. Like, if I pick one thing, am I being unfair to the other option? It sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud, but in the moment, it’s real. The cart was just a symptom, I guess. A little monument to my indecision.So I closed the tab. The items would still be there tomorrow, or they wouldn’t. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was stepping away from the loop of weighing two identical-feeling choices against each other. I needed something to break the pattern, not give me an answer.

Letting something else decide

That’s when I remembered the old truth or dare wheel I’d saved on my phone. It wasn’t for a party or anything. It was just this quiet, private tool. I wasn’t looking for a deep secret or a wild challenge. I just needed an external nudge, something to point in a direction so I could stop pointing at myself.Spinning it felt like a small act of relief. The outcome was almost irrelevant. The important part was that the decision was made, and I hadn’t agonized over it. It felt clean, in a way. The wheel didn’t care about being fair, it just was. And somehow, that made the result feel fairer.

A different kind of quiet

The quiet after the spin was different from the quiet before. The stuck feeling was gone, replaced by a kind of lightness. It wasn’t about the dare or the truth it landed on. It was about handing over the burden of choosing, just for a second.