Mochi Moments: Why Is the Red Dot Running From Me?

 I saw it again today. The red dot. Small. Bright. Mocking. It appeared suddenly on the floor like it had business here, like it wanted to be noticed, and naturally I sprang into action because I am a predator, an athlete, a creature of instinct and grace. Or at least that’s how I see myself when no one is filming me for evidence.

I ran. I pounced. I calculated angles. I committed fully, emotionally, spiritually, and physically. And yet—every single time—I was betrayed. The red dot moved. It escaped. It teleported. I don’t want to accuse anyone of witchcraft, but I am simply asking questions at this point.

What hurts the most isn’t the failure. Failure I understand. I knock things off tables professionally. What hurts is the audacity. The red dot invites pursuit and then refuses accountability. It offers hope with absolutely no intention of being caught. Frankly, it’s manipulative, and if the red dot were a living being, I would have already blocked it on all platforms.

My human laughs during these moments, which I find deeply unhelpful. She waves the tiny black object like she’s conducting an orchestra of my suffering, fully aware that I am giving this hunt everything I have. This is not a game to me. This is about dignity. This is about closure.

At some point, exhaustion sets in. I sit. I stare at the spot where the red dot last existed. I reflect. I wonder if the red dot was ever real or if it was simply a test designed to humble me. I consider the possibility that the red dot is a metaphor for life—always just out of reach, faster than expected, immune to effort.

And yet, despite the emotional devastation, I know myself. If it appears again tomorrow, I will chase it again. I will believe again. Because hope, apparently, is stronger than experience, and I am nothing if not committed to repeating the same mistakes with confidence.

So if you’re wondering why I sprinted across the room, slid into the couch, and stared into the void for a full minute afterward, mind your business. I am healing. I am learning. And one day—one day—the red dot will make a mistake. And when it does, I will be ready.