The clock and the coin

I was just staring at the screen, my cursor hovering between two equally valid options. The clock in the corner of my monitor ticked over to 3:17 PM, and I realized I'd been sitting like that for nearly twenty minutes. The weight of the choice felt heavier than the choice itself.

That moment of pure hesitation

It wasn't about what was right or wrong. Both paths seemed fine, honestly. It was the energy required to commit to one that was missing. My brain felt like a browser with too many tabs open, each one a different argument for or against.I remember looking at the time again, a little annoyed with myself. The afternoon was slipping away, and I was stuck in this tiny, self-made loop. The work wasn't getting done, and the only thing I was accomplishing was a low-grade headache.

Letting something else decide

So I opened a new tab, not for research, but for a coin flip site. It felt almost silly. This was a work decision, after all. But the appeal was simple: it would be over. The debate would be closed by an outside force.I assigned 'heads' to one option and 'tails' to the other. For a second, I hesitated again, wondering if the assignments were fair. Then I just clicked. The animation spun, a brief moment of suspense that wasn't really suspense at all, just a pause before the answer arrived.

The quiet after the flip

The coin landed. I saw the result, and the internal noise just stopped. The 'what-ifs' about the other path were still there, but they were quieter, like background static you learn to ignore.

Moving forward anyway

I closed the tab and went with what it gave me. The strange part wasn't the outcome, but the sudden ability to act. The energy I'd spent deliberating was now free to use for actually doing the thing.