Jigsaw

Funny how I still use strategies from my childhood.

Like closing my eyes, and pretending everything around me has disappeared; and they have, visually at least, and most of the time, that's enough.

I mope when I want something. I scream and cry and have a tantrum the world has never seen, all in my head. I project those feelings through my eyes.

I've been told my eyes can be quite deadly.

I imagine and let curiosity get the better of me. I count by sticking my fingers out. I say the ABC's to remember the placement of letters. I enjoy snack time.

Hell, I've been using the same blanket since I was 6, and I don't plan on abandoning 'ole "Blue" anytime soon.

However.

As I've grown older, new strategies are required.

I can no longer share a goldfish to make a new best friend. I have to make an impression.

I can no longer be blissfully oblivious to everything happening in the world. I have to know evil to avoid it.

I can no longer speak my mind and expect no consequences. I have to bite my tongue.

But it's alright.

I understand things change.

For better.

For worse.

Till death do I part.

Till death, I live.

And during this wonderfully, horribly, real existence, I become another piece of the puzzle humanity has crafted.

I like to imagine I'm a corner piece, not some vague blur of color in the middle. But that would be alright, because that piece still completes the puzzle. It's just a little more complicated.