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Puzzles
I am not a puzzle.
That’s what I know.
Sometimes I sit in the center of my room with the universe surrounding me trying to place what I am in a sentence or two and through process of elimination it’s often easier, instead, to remember that there is an infinite number of things that I am not.
I am a girl, but I am not a book. People can’t read me and decide whether they liked me. I don’t have a start or an end, and I am not a start or an end.
I am a girl, but I am not a high-five, a choice, a mistake, a number on a list.
I am a girl, but I am not a door. I can’t be something that leads to something else, don’t make me the jumping-off point, the practice-run, the beginning of something that doesn’t involve me.
I am a girl, G-I-R-L. Not Double D, A, or 34C.
I am a girl, but I am not at the end of a waiting line. Nor am I in a waiting line.
I am a girl, but I am not a fish. Please don’t look for me, find me, catch me, and then toss me back.
I am a girl, but I am not a question mark, exclamation point, or period. Not an extra one or two “y”’s on the “hey,” an opened snapchat or a “seen at 12:20” facebook message.
I am a girl, but I am not one side of a pros-and-cons chart. Don’t weigh the good and bad about me against what’s on the other side of the list.
And I am a girl, but I am not a puzzle. I am not an accumulation of smaller things to create a bigger one, I am just a girl. Not an arrangement, not a competition, not a win or a loss.
I am not a puzzle. That’s what I know.
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