That evening, in the silence of the house I decided a destination for the distance and wrote the words ‘Walk into my story’:

I was born as a puzzle, and as years went by, someone would come and kick the pieces, spreading them further and further apart, making it impossible for me to collect myself as a whole being. Every time I would connect a piece in its place, another one would fall or would be pushed away by someone else. I’ve always felt as a damaged puzzle missing a bunch of pieces from some corner of myself.

Trying to gather those pieces was sometimes fun, and soon I discovered that I could fill the holes with something else: a feeling, a joy, a crazy adventure. But those never fit quite right; they weren’t the right color or the right size. I never belonged to myself because of it. I was a slave to my own dramas and pain. When I walk from A to B, when I challenge my body to do what my mind doesn’t want to, the puzzle pieces stop falling.

No, I can’t collect them, nor can I put the ones missing back, but it stops the ones that are in place from falling apart. Time stops; everything stops. It’s me, myself and I. It’s me walking on hidden paths talking to myself; it’s me trying to figure out why I am damaged; it’s me accepting that I am.

‘Walk into my story’ is the need to escape the world I’ve created around me, the process of accepting an ‘I’ that stands alone.