Reality has a maddening habit of revealing itself as jigsaw pieces. You are aware that there is a bigger picture, but until that moment falls into place, you are left searching. And even then, you only see what you wish to see.
There is a wretched kind of comfort in placing the same piece over and over. You know what’s coming, even though you dread it. And when you’re in it, it consumes you like it always has. Then you pick up that piece, throw it against the wall, swearing it cannot possibly fit, and dive in looking for another. Then it starts all over again. One day, you’ll see that the piece actually fits, and the picture will become clearer.
But I have never mastered puzzles.
So, I keep picking up the same piece, which is only shaded slightly differently each time, and hope that this time the picture turns out how I imagined. It doesn’t.
Some people keep staring at the tree and missing the forest. But I’ll keep trying to solve the puzzle anyway.