The Unfinished Puzzle
#2134
I feel a small vertigo when I hear the word “awakened.”
It carries the weight of an arrival. Like someone has finally stepped out of the fog, rubbed their eyes, and seen the world as it really is. When someone tells me they are awakened, I hear: I have finished the puzzle.
But claiming to have finished the puzzle is usually a sign that you’ve run out of pieces. Or that you’ve stopped looking at the board.
Some of the people who use that word, I think, are full of it.
Some of them I’m not so sure about.
And on the worst days, I wonder if I’m just the one who can’t get there. If my irritation is diagnosis or envy. If they are awake, and I am the one still wandering in the dark.
I don’t know. That’s the part I keep landing on.
I don’t want to arrive. But I don’t know if that’s wisdom or just a way out.