The unspoken words

The torn part of the puzzle

    She was always happy with a little. Instead of a whole crust of bread, only crumbs were enough. She was taught to give everything, and in return to receive little. To put her whole heart on fire, expecting to put it back in its burnt place. She was not a person to be satisfied with a little. She had to be content with a lot. She gave everything, she deserved to get everything. She should not have shed tears and despair for everything he did. The good always suffer. Maybe  she should have turned into an ice queen who thinks only with her head, but never with her heart. She had to learn to stop engaging in meaningless love adventures.

    But,  she did not want to be the only black sheep to whom the same thing always happened. Always alone. Without anyone. The one she had to rely on, and serve as a support in everything, was actually the most fragile rock. She knew she could not rely on him. It was like putting your upper arm on a cloud. On ordinary gas that does not exist physically and that will allow you to fall. He did not know what to do. She was completely torn. In the evening she was overtaken by what she had been running away from all day. When she lay down on the bed and hugged her pillow, all the thoughts that she chased all day like flies swarmed in her head one by one and did not let her sleep peacefully. She was digging in the past,  thinking all the time, but she knew that some things just could not be fixed…. That they will remain in the same position as before, and may even get worse. And so, thinking and looking at the ceiling and planks, her mind only created problems, not solutions. Problems that as harmonious friends played a common dance, a dance that was accompanied by a new guest with each note played. And there was no end. It was a never-ending beginning, like a series of numbers that are constantly coming together. And she could not put an end to that sequence, so she kept putting a comma and continuing the sequence.

    She often wondered why she was doing this. Why was the wall she decided to lean on the most unstable? Why did she lie down to sleep on a bed that has no legs and breaks? Why did she reach out to someone she knew would not reach her? And the same thing kept happening. Maybe not at regular intervals, but regular enough not to miss the monotony.

    Some people are simply destined to constantly look for the torn part of the puzzle. A puzzle that looks great, but is not beautiful enough without the part that is missing in the middle. Because without that part, that puzzle is incomplete and empty. That piece shines and cries out desperately - Find me. And she kept looking for him, all over the room, but she could not find him. It may have been covered in dust that had not been cleaned for a long time. Instead of looking for it,  she would gladly do another part, putting it in its place and thus completing the puzzle. But that was not possible. That part had to be found, sometime, somewhere, in some distant time and in some distant place...