“Not every puzzle is intended to be solved. Some are in place to test your limits. Others are, in fact, not puzzles at all…”

― Vera Nazarian

I was a defined structure and like a whole finite product I carried my life with pride and dignity. But I found myself hit by an unknown force that broke me into million pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Thousands of pieces to put together just to get myself going on was so much work for just a human. I was just a pile of pieces in a locked box that nobody cared about, forgotten on the shelf, a prisoner of my own ego and karma. From where to start and when I’ll get to an end? But I had to try at least. First, I created my boundaries, closing every corner with sharp edges, and building the walls so nobody could enter the damaged space created. Then, I continued to deal with my mess, where nothing fit and all were misplaced. Frustration and disappointment held my progress, but no one knew what happened behind the walls that I created. No one could help, cause what needed to be healed, came from inside, and what I had was my own contest to match. Grouping the pieces by similarities and with parts that looked familiar, I created clusters, and small patches got in place. I wouldn’t know they were connected until I found the piece that made the bonding. I stayed awake with the unsolved game and lost hope when nothing matched anymore. I tried so much to see it done, until one day when I realized that it was missing the last piece. I had a missing piece that would always leave my mind questioning, what could substitute it or it was not meant to be replaced? Another puzzle would not fit, and other pieces I couldn’t find, and I only had to accept that sometimes, puzzles were meant to remain unsolved or incomplete.

“He was a puzzle she never would have been able to solve if he hadn’t shown her how. Those were the best kinds of puzzles, though, weren’t they? The ones no one else could figure out?”

― Helen Hoang

A single piece could be found on someone else puzzle? Would they observe it if I would take it? Would that be moral or unfair? However, I tried to solve someone’s else puzzle but was only fair to do it when the pieces were not bent. With hidden pieces and turned faces, I couldn’t help someone that didn’t want to show me how they played their game. I came to life with my own set of pieces, and to help someone else who struggled, would only keep me stuck. I was blinded by foolishness and enthusiasm and hoped their game was easier but was not. Only those believing in miracles could be thought that unsolicited advice would help the ones who suffered in their own ego to find solutions for their fate. I lacked the courage to show my true face, to leave myself naked in front of the unknown, and to admit that I was alone in those struggles. But was I the only one, or did others hide it better than I could? Soaked in tears, damaged, and lost, I barely helped myself clean the mess that was made when I couldn’t hold with trembling hands the box with broken pieces of my heart. The game of life and how to play it was unknown and tangled with my own limitations imposed. Unless it was my game to play, it was better to wait in the hallway for someone that went through their soul surgery, not interfere and left the ones who knew what should be done, alone. I have only shown support, but I couldn’t do the work for them. It was better to leave their puzzle to stay unsolved because I couldn’t fit what was not meant to be figured out. I was only halfway and I had my own puzzle to solve or my life to live, as a misfit.

“Just because you’re puzzled, doesn’t mean life’s jagged edges won’t still fall into place for you.”

― Curtis Tyrone Jones

I was the only one who saw the progress, the other ones, just the results. Nobody knew how many times I’d tried before I brought the perfect essence of myself, inside my soul how many battles I had fought. Was it just the missing piece that bothered me, that I was a misfit and I didn’t fit in standards? If thorns were fitting next to roses, and sharp cliffs next to the soft sea, what made me think that if I was not perfect I couldn’t find my place to be? I embraced my flaws, acknowledged my weaknesses, and admired my fault because I was not made perfect, and maybe that was what made me so unique in my own way. I was only shaped for my own pattern, and there was no standard for whom was I good or bad. I was just pieces in that closed box I called life. I could remain a pile of loose pieces and nobody would know what I was missing, and I would remain just an unsolved jigsaw puzzle, a beautiful mess, fragments of light scattered around the world.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *