jagged circle

I've literally started grabbing at my hair and tugging it. I have come perilously close to yanking it out in clumps, but instead I just hold it and stare at the ceiling. I fixate my gaze on the part of my ceiling that's been mended....from a hole or a leak or something. It is rough, uneven, a sad imitation of a circle, patched up but ever conspicuous.

I look at it as if to find meaning, as if the jagged edges will bestow upon me an epiphany, a metaphor, a beautiful image for my writing. But it is just a circle, after all. That image has been overdone.