Who should speak next?

It was one of those moments where everyone was just looking at each other. The silence wasn't heavy, exactly, but it was full of potential energy, like waiting for someone to open a door. I realized my brain was starting to do that thing it does, cycling through names and reasons, like opening the fridge over and over hoping for something new to appear.

The quiet before the choice

I could feel the slight tension in my shoulders. Part of me wanted to just pick someone, to get it over with, but another part was worried about being unfair or picking the wrong person. It felt like a tiny, silly burden to carry in a room full of friends.All the reasons for and against each person started to pile up in my head. Maybe they spoke last time. Maybe they had a good point earlier. It was getting noisy in there, and the actual conversation in the room had stalled.

Letting the wheel decide

So I pulled up the wheel and just typed in the names. Seeing them there, stripped of all my overthinking, was a relief. They were just names on a list, not a complex social puzzle I had to solve perfectly.I gave it a spin. The whirring sound, the blur of colors—it created a little pocket of neutrality. For a second, I wasn't responsible for the outcome. The decision was happening, but I wasn't making it.

When it landed

There was a name. And just like that, the mental chatter stopped. The energy I'd been using to weigh options simply vanished. It felt less like a decision and more like noticing what had already been chosen.

After the spin

I said the name. The conversation started moving again, and I could finally just be in it. I didn't have to monitor who was talking or plan the next turn. I could actually listen to what people were saying.It's a small thing, really. But it gave my brain a break from a job it didn't need to be doing. The relief wasn't about the person who spoke; it was about the quiet that settled in my own head afterwards.