Gaming 101

Wise men say that change is as good as a holiday. I disagree. Holidays are as good as a change, but in order to change one cannot regress to the ordinary. One cannot return to the past.

Maybe I’m just nostalgic? Maybe I’m just not ready for change?

In these days of unquestionable answers and questions far from answered, I find myself at an unusual loss for words. It's as though something has sucked the ink from my veins, replaced it with vinegar to dissolve the pages on which I write my story. All that remains in the void of my mind is a single vision of life, and the game it demands we play.

It takes on the shape of a puzzle box. A cube; as wide as it is high, marked by a thousand sanded blocks, coloured, of course. All things are coloured where I’m concerned. The pieces are shaped by the vague, cut down and blasted to perfection, each side smooth, every edge sharp. No two pieces the same.

The rules of the game are simple: build a perfect cube.

So the question I find myself most willing to ask is this: Why, in the thick of the game when the base is built and the lower half of the box assumes a state of perfection, is it always necessary to have to undo what already works to make room for something else, for the greater good of the game? Why do I have to take my heart apart to make room for the everyday? Why do you have to take the everyday apart to make room for your heart?

The rules of the game are simple: build a perfect cube.