Puzzle-woman

by Meritxell Riera Prims

The Enigma, from the American freak Jim Rose Circus

ImageI’ve always been really good at solving puzzles. When I was two years old I could solve puzzles for children aged five. But the one that is my life has been resisting me for a long time now. Pieces don’t seem to fit. 

People keep telling me that it’s hard to figure me out. That sometimes I’m high and all of a sudden I’m low. And since I don’t talk much about what’s in my mind, of course folks get puzzled themselves. 

But I actually think it’s quite simple if you just have the courage and the patience to pay attention. I’m not fucking bipolar or a nutcase (and please, I beg those people who suffer these personality disorders to sincerely excuse me).

The think is quite simple: it’s not that I’m fine and all at once I feel terrible. Maybe I just don’t feel that good at all and all I’m doing is wear a disguise most of the time. And every now and then, when I drop it, what’s beneath reveals itself.

Basically, what I do is running away from my own self. I’ve hardly been listening to myself lately. For some reason it turns out to be to scary for me.

I know: the sole idea feels scary.

 

 

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