puzzle pieces

poem about my brain.

PUZZLE PIECES
I think of my brain as a puzzle, an infinite, hard puzzle.
The pieces are always changing.
Changing sizes,
Changing shapes,
Changing images,
Always making it impossible to finish.
The ones I managed to put together give me a flash of happiness and energy, making me think I am going to be able to finish it one day. It just makes me euphoric.
I run around the room,
I shout excitedly,
I nearly cry out of pure joy.
But good things only last for so long, and before can even continue to celebrate my victory…
The pieces change and get mixed with the rest.
I should have learned my lesson at this point; I should have at least learned the pattern of this repetitive cycle.
But I didn’t.
Because I still enjoy the simple happiness of managing to do something by myself,
The momentary happiness from finishing a small part of the infinite puzzle is more comforting than accepting it will never be completely finished.
The frustration of having to make the puzzle again is not my biggest problem.
I just enjoy trying to put together the pieces.
However,
Do not ask or force me to try to do the puzzle,
It will make me upset; it will make the process less pleasing and way more stressful. I cannot do puzzles under pressure.