Redwood

At times, hypercritical.  At other times, hypersensitive.  And even still at other times, incredibly lonely.  Broken up, broken down and lying like a puzzle on the floor - just dumped out of the box and nearly impossible to put together because the entire puzzle is all one color.  Gray.  One shade, one hue, one blank sheet of next to nothingness.

How easy it would be to get distracted from this puzzle.  What's there to do instead?  That's when you look around and see nothing of note.  You are stuck in a box, hanging from a redwood somewhere in California.  Thing is, you are not even aware you are in California... as far as you know you are in New Jersey or Alabama or in the Sahara for all it matters.  You are stuck in a box after all.  Stuck in a box with a puzzle that will take some time to put together.  You pick up the box it came out of, looking at the cover in hopes that something might stand out.  Nothing does.  Nothing except the words "1000 pieces".

Fuck.

Better get to work.  Somehow you know that once this task is done, you will get out of the box and you will move on.  Where to start though?  How on Earth will this be accomplished?  It may take days, weeks, months or even years.  You try one piece at a time and match those pieces.  Then you realize there are no edges to this puzzle.  How could that be?  You can't even get the border together easily?  What the hell? 

Ok.  Random pieces will be sticking out the sides when you are all finished.  Ok.

Because nothing is perfect after all.  All the healing in the world may give you peace but still some things will remain amiss.  Some things may never go away completely but that's alright - that's what makes us human.  In many ways that's what makes us truly lovable and snuggable.  Even when the ugly is taken out and put in it's rightful place - somewhere in the middle of this odd puzzle lying on the floor in front of you - somewhere in the completed picture.  You become soft because you know what it is to not only face the pain but to move beyond it and make it a piece of art.  Modern art, sure but art nonetheless.

Once you get down from your tree you will be able to look up and see something magnificent... what was your home... what was your jail will no longer be a mystery but it will still be mysterious.  Hauntingly so.  You may even find yourself thanking your giant friend, the one who held you up through the lightning and the thunder and you will begin to realize it was no jail at all... it was an oppurtunity to figure it all out.