The last two weeks have been an aggressive slap in the face. A wakeup call that something needs to change. A week of midterms which could only be described as soul crushing. A Thanksgiving break where my extended family was stuffed tighter into my house than some dry-ass cornbread into a turkey. Finally, the love of my life has dumped me. What the fuck am I supposed to do? While my therapist has suggested prozac and writing down my emotions, that sounded like a lot of effort. And to be honest, I have no interest in investing so much time and emotional energy into something (my journal) that just won’t give me the same in return. I need to focus on myself. I was inspired not only by the famous work of Marie Kondo (does it spark joy?) but also a semi-well known psychological concept first discovered in the 1920s, “Kiki and Bouba.” I began by analyzing not only my life, but my beautiful ex-lover (who has declined to be interviewed for this article). With his perfectly spiked hair, biting wit, and sharp jawline my man could only be described as kiki. For reference I have included below an image of the “kiki” shape and also a picture of ex-baes celeb look alike.
The more I looked at my life, the more the dots connected. It all lined up––literally. Every person in my life that was causing me strife was kiki. From my ex’s new mousy girlfriend, to my psychotic roommate and her choppy, layered wolf-cut, even my haunting night terrors which inexplicably always involve Ian Somerhalder but with even less buccal fat. That’s when I decided once and for all, I’m actually going to listen to my therapist and start cutting all of the people and things that are not serving me out of my life. At first it was hard, my roommate didn’t take it that well when I said she had thirty days to move out. Can you believe it? She called ME selfish for prioritizing my mental health! But as recognizing the kiki in my life got easier, so too did setting my boundaries. Although it hasn’t just been smooth sailing from there. Unfortunately, my advisor just informed me that I’m going to have to take an extra semester to graduate. I know I’m one credit shy of finishing my psych major, but I had to withdraw from my chem lab; I can’t even go near the science center anymore, the modern brutalist style is simply too angular.
I got back from my meeting with the dean, feeling hopeless and defeated, emotions I hadn’t felt since kicking my bitch ex roommate out and cutting out all other kiki elements from my life. I screamed. I scoured throughout my room, rummaged through every drawer, riffled through all my belongings. Since I seldom leave my dorm it must be here somewhere. Out of sheer frustration, I slammed my door, my target mirror hanging on the back shattered into a thousand shards. As I looked down into the kikiest mess of all, I had finally found it. There, staring back at my own piercing blue eyes, I noticed it in my own reflection… I know what I need to do.