I have become my own mystery. The clues to it all are scattered around me like shattered glass. I can see that its a whole picture but not of what. I thought I use to know or I did before life changed.
The picture was clear and hung with pride and accomplishment of which I was then reflecting. Until the nail broke and that detailed picture so painstakingly drawn and hung so high came crashing down. Shattered.
For ages it seems I have collected every shard and chip of that broken masterpiece. I foolishly thoughy with time I could put it back together as it had been. However scarred and tattered but I would have my picture once again.
So I started to put the Who of what I was back together again. I tried several methods as one does with puzzles attempting edges first or sorted by color. Try as I might though it never fit together. Not the way it did before or resembling even close to my orginal form.
The colors are off. Darker and colder. The scene isnt so sweet and concise but more primitive and wild. Closely matching the storm in my head and under the skin.
The dimensions now wont lie flat in this new multi faceted form. The scars are healed but not without rise. The old colors cracking under the new as this new medium blends. Now appearing more like Edvard Munch's The Scream then the fairy tale illustration of before.
So an enigma I am to even myself. Feelings quickly running hot and cold. Sensing the tangible change and trying so hard to give it a name.
Remembering next time to use stronger nails and hang not so high.