After reading Carlo Rovelli’s The Order of Time, something shifted in me, inspiring me to observe how I perceive and understand time. I had previously viewed aspects of time as segmented, geometric structures along a linear timeline, as if they were wooden building blocks stacked neatly next to each other. For the concept of a week, I began to notice that I view it as a thin string or thread, with each day represented by smaller, less defined blocks. Upon reflection, I realised this instilled disappointment when milestones weren’t met or when failures and mistakes occurred, because it subconsciously threw a block out of order. The block’s stiffness, sturdiness, and lack of fluidity didn’t allow room for change or disorder. It caused panic and constant rumination about my age, the order of time in my life, and the expected timeline. Now, by thinking of time as circular and positioning myself at a point on the circle, I see that there are ups and downs, highs and lows—but there is always a cycle, a continuous movement. There is always expansion and growth. A circle doesn’t have an end—anything can happen at any moment, and it’s okay because there’s always the next curve. It views mistakes and failures not as rigid, unforgiving blocks but as points on the circle—moments in time, moments of suffering, fun, joy, ease, sadness. Circularity has changed my perspective.