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(text-style:"blurrier","condense","fidget")[[
#Jigsaw->Earliest Memory]](t8n:'fade-right')[piecing together a life story]
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(t8n:"blur")[(text-style:"blurrier")[You run towards the basketball court, arms in the air and] [[laughter->High]] (text-style:"blur")[ringing out. Your friend chases you, trying to] [[''touch''->Crush]] (text-style:"blurrier")[your arm to make you the] taya. (text-style:"blurrier")[The] sticky heat of summer (text-style:"blur")[clings to your skin, and you’re] sweaty and dirty (text-style:"blurrier")[but you don’t care. Every day is a new day to] (text-style:"blur") [play games and hang out with your friends.] The [[''worries of life'' ->Grief]] are distant future memories. For now, you only worry about losing the game.]
(t8n:"blur")[(text-style:"blur")[The brush of fingers, the tap on a shoulder.] Looking at them makes your stomach twist and turn in the best and worst way. You’re [[flying->Home]] and falling through [[dreams->Future]] and reality. Eyes (text-style:"blink")[fluttering shut and straining] open as you frantically reach for the glow of your phone. Have they replied yet?
Leaning in close to hear them, the scent of their shirt fills your senses. Your mind spins with thoughts of holding their hand, (text-style:"blurrier")[putting your head on their shoulder, leaning in and]—you bury your head into your pillow, flustered and embarrassed.](t8n:"blur")[Your cheeks hurt from smiling and you feel light-headed but you don’t care. All those long hours hunched over your laptop, the non-stop meetings, and the lonely nights have come to this. The heat of the lights blind you for a moment. You look out into the crowd, picking out faces of the [[people whose shoulders->Family]] have carried you to the finish line. [[Finally->Purpose]]. There are more races to run and more hurdles to come but finishing this marathon is [[enough for now->Future]].](t8n:"blur")[Breathing is a fight for air. Throat closing up as tears threaten to spill out of your eyes, you fall to the floor. You sit there, struggling to answer your own questions. Closure is a slippery snake, taunting you as it slithers out of reach. They say closure is something you give to yourself but //fuck that//. Everything feels too much and you’re choking on the bitter aftertaste of grief.]<p|
[//Inhale//. Exhale.]<l1|
[//Inhale//. Exhale.](l2|
[Relief. Emptiness.](l3|
[You breathe easier now and you don’t choke when you talk about it. But the phantom pain of a lost limb [[lingers.->Doubt]]](l4|
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(t8n:"blur")[You hold all these little pieces together, slowly working through the puzzle. It is a never-ending task, trying out different pieces. But the [picture] seems a little clearer this time.
What story do the pieces tell? Do you like the picture they show, stretching back and [reaching forward]?
[The puzzle is still yet incomplete but not all the pieces are permanent. There’s still room for revisiting and reversing, remaking and renewing.]<Show|]
(t8n:"blur")[[[Revisit the other pieces->Earliest Memory]]
[[Complete the puzzle->Jigsaw]]](Back|
(click: ?Show)[(show:?Back)](t8n:"blur")[You hold all these little pieces together, slowly working through the puzzle. It is a never-ending task, trying out different pieces. You jam them together, hoping they fit. For a while you [[pretend->Doubt]] that they do, as long as they hold the puzzle together.
But the gaps and the uneven spaces soon weaken the illusion. They fall to pieces and you’re left with a mess to work through again. The image they form has never been more [[unclear->Grief]].](t8n:"blur")[You’re in the middle before you realize it, but it all fits and the picture is a [[little clearer->Forward]]. They say do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life—a lie. Doing what you love sometimes makes you want to tear your hair out and cry. The tedium of slogging through ideas and backtracking on paths is work. But you know you’d rather do this than anything else. You’re willing to wade through the crap to get to the gold and you’d do it all again in a [[heartbeat->Crush]].](t8n:"blur")[The salty, tangy whiff of //adobo// draws you toward the dining table where your family is seated. Whether blood or water, born into or chosen, they are [[yours->Home]]. You are theirs. You all loudly talk over each other, between bites of rice and //ulam//. Someone spews out water and snorts out rice from laughing too hard. Another swipes the last chicken leg before you have a chance to protest. The one next to you makes //kwento// about the latest tea they have.
For a moment, you sit back and marvel at this.]Finding your people is a [[revelation->Purpose]]. You laugh a little louder and snort a lot more. You say that stupid joke you’ve been dying to say even if it sucks. You think less and feel more. Shrugging off the skin of cool indifference is a relief. The warmth of belonging envelops you and life is less of a drudge than usual. You can just be and you know that these people will [[hold you->Grief]].(t8n:"blur")[Reach out, grasp at the last pieces that elude you. You had inklings of the picture this puzzle paints but what does it really?]
(t8n-delay: 3s)+(t8n:"blur")[Pause. What is all this toiling and trying for?]
(t8n-delay: 7s)+(t8n:"blur")[You've been programmed to follow the code for so long.]<l0|
[Corners, edges, middle.](l1|
[College, career, family.](l2|
[Rise, climax, fall.](l3|
(t8n:"fade-right")[Is this the story you want [[to tell->Backward]]?
Is this the story you want to be told?](l4|
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(click: ?l3)[(t8n:"fade-right")(show:?l4)](t8n:'instant')[Error. [Ignore]<l1|]
[404. Do you still want to continue? [Whatever.]<l3|](l2|
[You know this piece doesn't fit. [Let go and pick up another one.]<l5|](l4|
[You've come this far and it's frustrating to start over.
Confirm selection? [[Yes->Purpose]]](l6|
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