So they say that life is an endless puzzle, that it’s unpredictable and untamed, did the all-knowing they ever mention that this puzzle is always missing pieces? That the only pieces left are ever-changing, mercurial, and jagged? It’s so easy to carelessly be content and complacent with the perfect fit between two small puzzle pieces, that is, until the jagged edge of another one cuts you as you absent-mindedly reach for another to fit into your carefully constructed fragment of a completed puzzle. You bleed, but no matter—the blood just becomes a part of the horribly complicated pattern anyways.
Just when everything seemed to reach that near-impossible equilibrium, when happiness and familiarity seemed to be easy and attainable—
Created: Aug 01, 2010Document Media