Expensive

If I ever had a freeway billboard, it would read:

“Coherence: because chaos is expensive.”

Not inspirational. Not aspirational. Just… accurate.

Chaos has a way of running up a tab. Not financially (though, honestly, sometimes that too), but in the hidden costs: the mental clutter, the emotional whiplash, the hours spent retracing my steps like a detective trying to reconstruct a crime scene made entirely of misplaced tasks and forgotten obligations.

Coherence, on the other hand, is the quiet upgrade. The soft hum of a life that doesn’t constantly demand emergency intervention. It’s not about perfection or color‑coded anything. It’s about building a world where things don’t slip through the cracks the moment I look away.

For me, coherence looks like:

catching a task before it becomes a five‑alarm fire
giving myself transitions instead of abrupt gear shifts
creating systems that don’t collapse if I blink
choosing steadiness over spectacle
offering myself the structure I should’ve had years ago

It’s not glamorous. It’s not a personality makeover. It’s more like finally tightening the screws on a wobbly table so it stops wobbling every time you breathe near it.

And yes, chaos still tries to flirt with me. Chaos is dramatic. Chaos has stories. Chaos promises spontaneity and delivers migraines. Every time I let it back in, I end up paying for it — in time, in energy, in the emotional equivalent of late fees.

So my billboard isn’t a motto. It’s a reminder to myself, delivered at highway speed:

Coherence: because chaos is expensive.
And I’m finally tired of footing the bill.

Scored by Copilot, Conducted by Leslie Lanagan