Stupid puzzle pieces. I’ve lost so many that I don’t know which parts I need anymore to make my life complete. I think about this on a warm summer afternoon. School ended early, I’m supposed to be studying for my geography test tomorrow. But I can’t. I’m busy writing. My fingers flick over the surface of my keyboard and the words easily appear on the white sheet that is supposed to resemble paper on my computer. I’ve been busy all afternoon, thinking and writing.

I am thinking about the puzzle pieces. A few that are missing are miles away, out of reach. The others are yet to be found, but I want, I need to know when. I want my puzzle more complete than it is now.

Damn. I dropped another puzzle piece. That was an important one. I try to pick it up, but it slips through my fingers. The piece has your face on it. It tumbles to the ground, you’re facing the floor now. Wherever you are on the world, I hope you forgive me.

In a few months time, it’s my birthday. My puzzle will expand and new pieces will have to be found. Why can’t I first have the time to find the ones that fell out of the box?
My phone goes of. It’s you. You don’t sound hurt, even though I dropped you. You tell me that you might come and see me in the summer. My missing puzzle piece. But it’s summer now, why aren’t you here yet?

I miss you. The sun is pounding into my back, burning me, but I can’t really feel it. I’m numb. Sometimes I hear you write to me, I hear every sentence you write to me in your exact voice. I can hardly read the words, because I can hear them. It’s complicated, I know. I hope the memory of your voice stays. If I forgot your voice, an important part of that puzzle would go missing and I would break. I am afraid that I will die when I break. That’s why I hold everything together, bury it up deep inside me and hope it doesn’t come spilling out.

I’m afraid of my own voice. Fear is another puzzle piece. The things I am afraid of are missing in my puzzle. I need to trust my own voice, to be able to tell others how I feel. I’m dying to tell someone about myself. But now you’re gone, I have no-one to talk to. My voice becomes a stranger. My fears become my enemy. I never fight, I always run. I run away from my fears. I want your voice, and I want to love mine. But I will never find the piece that holds my voice.

I’m complicated. People don’t understand me. I understand people, I try to help them, try to fix there problems that are out of my reach, and only get more puzzle pieces in my endless, confusing mind. When I try to put the pieces together, the people push me and they all fall down again. They push me because they don’t understand me. I wish I had someone to talk to. You say that that’s another piece I have to discover. I have discovered it, it’s you. But you’re to far away. So far away, I am often afraid I will forget you forever.

So much has changed since the beginning of this puzzle. It is no longer sunny, it is dark. The brightness of the moon is stinging in my eyes as I remember I shouldn’t stay up to late, because I have a geography test tomorrow. But it’s already one ‘o clock in the morning.

You have now read my entire story. Do you understand how I feel? Or are you confused, because it’s to complicated? Well, I am complicated. Now I’m done writing, I’m going to go and find my missing pieces, and discover new ones. I hope that you can forgive me for leaving. I know it wasn’t my fault, but I still feel guilty. You are the best friend I have ever had, and ever will have. Thanks for making my puzzle momentarily, almost complete.