The Finished Puzzle
Imagine this. Imagine a young girl prancing around, wearing a pink leotard and tutu, dreaming that one day she’ll be on the big stage. Imagine a young girl, dreaming that one day, she will have fans pouring out at her feet. Imagine an oppressed man seeking freedom in a country that provides for fifty states and many territories. Imagine an oppressed man, who hopes to find clarity to all of his problems. Imagine a hopeful student, wanting to go to college, dreaming of finding enough money to do the one thing she loves most in the world. While all these dreams are completely different they have one thing in common. They all want to fit in, to find somewhere they belong. I imagine that everyone is a puzzle piece, and everyone has their own puzzle. Everyone has their own puzzle to complete. I hate it when things aren’t finished and I rely on everything working to perfection. If a computer is missing even the smallest piece it won’t work. If a puzzle is missing the smallest piece, the whole picture won’t be able to be seen. My American Dream to finish my puzzle, to see the whole picture.
The first step to finishing the puzzle is to find out which puzzle I belong to. A blue puzzle piece doesn’t fit in to the red puzzle, nor does the square piece fit the rounded edges. I was born with only one piece, and that is my own, unique to myself. Though my life hasn’t been full of exciting adventures I have still had things that shaped my life, shaped the way I think, that shaped my puzzle piece. No one can make their own puzzle with just one piece; they need the other people to build up the puzzle. Without these people the puzzle would be skewed.
My family fits into my puzzle, each one fitting the edges to build the base. My parents raised me well and told me I could do anything. My parents have always been supportive of everything, but sometimes they question. It seems they don’t like the way the picture is turning...